


Your Eyes Whispered, Have We Met?

by unicornsforaudrey



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Coffee Shops, College Hockey, F/M, Meet-Cute, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsforaudrey/pseuds/unicornsforaudrey
Summary: You know when you meet someone for the first time, and it feels like your whole world has fallen into place?For some people that can take a few do-overs to really stick.Or, five times Rayla and Callum had a meet-cute that went horribly wrong, and the one time they didn't.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 189





	1. (Please) Don't Be In Love With Someone Else

**Author's Note:**

> The first time, it's at the coffee shop where she works.

She didn’t _hate_ working at the offbeat campus coffee shop, per se, it was just a lot more boring than she anticipated when she had first started working there three years ago.

Rayla noisily sighed as she stared off outside the storefront window. There wasn’t really much to see, beyond the sheets of rain trying to roar through the glass. Not much to look at inside either, just the same old recycled chairs and tables, used books for sale in shelves lining the walls, and the moodily lit stage in the back corner they sometimes used for live performances.

She resigned herself to be bored, idly building pyramids of the mini complimentary creamers on the counter. But really, what else was there to do when there’s only fifteen minutes left on her shift and exactly two people perusing the book selection with zero intention of making a purchase?

Her eyes shifted to the two loiterers, specifically the one holding the store’s copy of _Harrow the Ninth_. Maybe, for once, instead of staring off into space she could try reading…? Even getting ahead on her homework…?

Good Garlath, she must really be bored to even consider it. Today’s hockey practice could not come soon enough, even if they were running drills to prep for the Nexus Nets’ new season. But time just seemed to be dragging on to spite her.

As if hearing her pleas for a break from the monotony, the store door opened, letting the gentle bell _ting_ faintly against the torrential rain now bombarding its way in. Nearly a million things all happened at once; the loiters rushed to keep their pages from turning in the wind that ripped through the store, rain sprayed on Rayla’s face (her eyeliner was not waterproof, if it smeared someone was going to die), and the culprit for this chaos was quickly trying to close the door even though clearly the damage had already been done. Before Rayla could really look at him though, the campus-news bulletin board next to her counter started to rustle and rattle from the wind.

 _Fuckin’ hell,_ she thought, rushing to keep the papers intact and the board on the wall. She was bored, yeah, but not particularly motivated to clean up stuff she didn’t have to. One flyer stubbornly evaded her best efforts, the ad for _Kafé Katolis’s Open Mic Poetry Nights: We’ll Rock Ya!_ , and it whipped around with the trapped wind. The new customer, who finally got the door closed, started after it. Rayla was secretly hoping he wouldn’t catch it.

 _Oh no, what if no one will know about the amateur poetry? What a bummer. A Shakespearian tragedy,_ she briefly thought to herself. How she managed to avoid going to, or Garlath forbid working, one of those nights was nothing short of a miracle.

While she wasn’t that upset to see that particular flyer go, she still cringed when it _whacked_ itself straight into the face of the Kafé’s newest customer. Rayla supposed at least this time when she told her hockey team’s goalie the flyer was misplaced she wouldn’t be lying. He asked nearly every practice, so it was getting hard coming up with new excuses.

She was doing a service for the greater good, really. He couldn’t even count syllables.

Rayla looked from the flyer to the guy now wearing it; she stifled a harmless laugh as he peeled it off, the damp paper clinging to his rain-soaked face. Looking closer at him, some of the ink from the flyer had rubbed off on his nose, but there were black stains on his hands and forehead too so that could have already been there. He was a little bit of a mess; sopping hair, wind-swept pink cheeks, and foggy glasses to boot. _Wow_ , she thought, _he’s.._.

It’s unfair, really, how pretty people are beautiful no matter the circumstances. By no means should he look as cute as he does.

“Here, I think this belongs to you. Or, the board, I guess.” Rayla jolted a little, hopefully not noticeably, when he started talking. When had he made his way up to the counter?

Oh no, she had been staring, hadn’t she? Fuck. Shit. Words, c’mon Rayla, find some words.

“Absolutely not, you can keep that. Please. You’d be doin’ me a bigger favor than you know.”

“What?” He grinned, almost shyly, “Are you telling me you _don’t_ want to get the word out about,” he checked the flyer, and barely contained his laughter, “melodramatic undergraduate poetry?”

“It’s not exactly my cup of tea,” she agreed.

He laughed again, softer, even though she hadn’t really said anything funny. His eyes searched her face for a moment, almost like he had forgotten words too before he drummed his hands lightly on the counter and said, “Speaking of tea, I think I should probably order something. I’ll take whatever is most expensive, to make up for the poor flyers lost on this tragic day.”

“Most expensive, huh? We’ve got a real high roller here tonight,” she sized him up (as if she hadn’t been already), seeing the puddle form below him. “First though we should probably dry you off.”

He blinked and tore his eyes from her to his dripping clothes, as if suddenly remembering where he was and that he looked like a storm incarnate.

She turned and opened the cabinets behind and above the counter, reaching all the way to the top shelf to grab one of the larger towels they kept but rarely used. Rayla was relatively tall, so she really didn’t understand why they would make shelves so high even she couldn’t reach without nearly dislocating her arm.

It was a personal triumph then to grab a towel (if it was one of the fluffier ones, was it really such a crime that a cute boy with ink on his nose didn’t have to dry himself with something akin to sandpaper?) without having to make a scene getting the stepstool out. Still, she had to adjust her traitor shirt that rode up with one hand and try to hand him the towel with the other.

It would have been much easier to hand it to him if he had been looking her way. She cleared her throat to get his attention; his eyes had surreptitiously locked onto the floor and his cheeks were a slightly deeper pink. _Weird_ , she thought, _the wind must have been really bad. My face gets red from the cold too, but not nearly as bad or for as long._

“Thanks,” he said, finally taking the proffered towel. He pushed up his flannel sleeves and wiped his glasses off first, which she knew from experience would leave a smudge but she was finding it hard to focus enough to tell him that. Once he wrapped the towel around his shoulders, she found it within herself to use her brain again.

“Now, about that uber-expensive drink.” She said, grinning broadly.

“Did I really agree to that?”

“You really did.”

He leaned a little on the counter, browsing their chalkboard menu. He kept the pretense up for a minute before finally admitting, “I gotta be honest, I don’t know what any of this is.” She snorted at his honesty and he laughed too for a second before asking, “Do you have any recommendations?”

“You kind of strike me as a frou-frou drink type,” Rayla judged, without malice. He grinned unabashedly and nodded. “Personally, I like our chai-blend. Especially on days like this.” Rayla glanced around her to make sure the exactly two other people weren’t within earshot as she added, “Just to warn you I will have to kill you if this gets out, but I like it with whipped cream and cinnamon sugar on the top.”

He nodded solemnly, and drew an ‘x’ over his heart, “Scouts honor, this stays in-between us.” He dropped the somber pretense, letting the dorky smile Rayla realized must be his default expression take over his face. “Do you have a tough, ‘I eat nails for breakfast and will _only_ have raw coffee grounds, black coffee if I have to’ reputation you have to protect?”

“Oh yes.” She agreed. She was mostly kidding, but there was a definite grain of truth there. “Will that be it then?”

He looked up at her from where he was leaning on the counter, and she was very deliberately _not_ losing her mind about how his eyes looked when he was peering up at her like that. “Yeah,” he decided, paused, and said, “Can you please make it two?”

Rayla’s mind started racing at the possibility the second could maybe be for her. _Can you please stop being moon-eyed for maybe five minutes and just finish this guy’s order_ she scolded herself. Rayla turned the Apple-pay register towards him to put his card in, “Can I have a name for the order?”

“Callum.”

“Great,” she smiled, and got to starting the chai lattes, putting the black tea on the stove and mixing the creamer and milk in a saucepan. She was busying herself in prep, but definitely noticed in Callum in her peripherals looking around the shop, hesitating, and situating himself back on the counter. Normally she was put-off by people watching her make their drink, but it didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world to have more of an excuse to talk to him.

“So,” she started, praying to the Gods of casual conversation they wouldn’t abandon her now, “Do you go to school here?”

Callum nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been majoring in Fine Art, and I’m almost done with my minor in graphic design. We’re already starting our midterm projects, I think this is the first time in weeks I’ve had time to breathe.” She sort of guessed he was an artist, what with the ink stains. She watched Callum suddenly pull a notebook from his satchel and heard him heave a sigh of relief. “I was worried these had gotten damaged in the rain,” he barely hesitated before turning the book towards Rayla; while she let the chai tea finish she gave it a glance and gasped. She was by no means an artist, or even an art-observer, but even she could recognize the effort and love in his work.

“Wow, look at that _detail._ You can really see every hair…She’s beautiful, who is she?”

He blushed from the compliment, which was stupid because if he’s still embarrassed to be praised for what should be obvious people have not been complimenting him enough.

“My mom. Sometimes people say I look like her, I guess that’s where I get my good looks and effortless beauty.” Callum, honest to Garlath, _winked_ at her _._ Almost immediately, he dropped the faux-suaveness in favor of mild horror as his mind caught up with his body. He wasn’t wrong though.

 _Eh, fuck it,_ “I can see it. You may edge her out by a bit though.”

Rayla almost gave herself whiplash turning her back to him to finish pouring the whipped milk and cream combination into the mugs of tea. And if she was honest, working was a great excuse to avoid eye contact after her mini-flirt grenade. Neither of them said anything for a little bit, but it was a comfortable silence in the way two people with soft smiles and warming hearts get to have. 

When she turned back around, two chai tea lattes in hand, he had expanded the creamer-pyramid she had been building in boredom pre-Callum. It was now a small pyramid-empire.

Rayla put her finishing touch, a stick of cinnamon, in the chai before pushing it towards him. “Order for Callum, or was it Clem?”

“Ha ha,” Callum stuck his tongue out at her, before gently taking the mug in two hands, softly blowing, and taking a sip. Rayla was definitely _not_ waiting with bated breath for his verdict. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he whispered with the reverence usually reserved for prayer, “ _this is amazing.”_

“Flatterer,” she scoffed, secretly pleased.

“No, I’m serious. This is a drink fit for the gods. I am simply not worthy.” Callum bowed a little towards the mug, and Rayla laughed outright at his antics. “Seriously,” he said, starting to push the other mug towards her, “I know you’ve already had it before, but you need to—”

“Callum, babe, I’m sitting over here,” one of the loiterers called over to him from a seat by the window, and Rayla felt just like a record-scratch embodied. It was the girl who was reading _Harrow the Ninth_ earlier. The book sat finished on her table, and she must have just emerged from it to only now notice _babe_ had been there for a little bit. “Did you already order that for me?” she called out excitedly.

“Um, I, uh,” he hesitated, but stopped pushing the mug Rayla’s way. Damn.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you here on a…?” Rayla started, but the girl got up from where she was sitting to come over to the counter and Rayla decided the best way out of this situation was to just shut the fuck up until her shift mercifully ended.

“On a…?” he started to ask, until he noticed the girl had approached the counter too, “Hey, Clauds. I didn’t see you before.”

“Oh well that’s impossible, I’m very hard to miss.” She chirped, wrapping her arm around his elbow with one hand and grabbing the mug with the other. _If I have to die,_ Rayla silently pleaded, _please let it be now. “_ Although, impossible is just another form of possible, so I’ll let you get away with it this time." She turned her attention to Rayla, "Especially since it looks like you were talking to—”

There was another _ting_ as the bell hanging from the doorframe rang, and once again there was a mini-mad dash to close the door and keep the rain out. _Finally_ , the clock had taken pity on Rayla and Kazi was here to take over the next shift. 

“Oh look at the time, and look who’s here, hope you enjoy the chai tea lattes!” Rayla called over her shoulder, and nearly sprinted out from behind the counter to her car. Kazi leapt out of Rayla’s way, a mixture of shock and concern spreading on their face as Rayla didn’t even bother to pull her hood up when she bolted into the rain. Callum reached a hand out, maybe stop her, but she was already peeling out of the parking lot at an alarming rate.

Claudia sipped from her mug, “Oh this is _good_. And that’s coming from me. She was cute, too,” she added, “Did you get a vibe that she likes women? Asking for a friend. That friend is me.” Callum didn’t answer, he just groaned and laid his head on his hands. Claudia continued, blissfully unaware, “What? Hello, Callum, Earth to Callum, hey what’s that flyer in your bag?” She took it out, “Oh, you know who would _love_ going to a poetry night?”

Callum mournfully lifted his head up, and turned to Kazi with the desperation only a dumbass can have, “The girl, who just left, what was her name?”

“Um, I don’t believe I can say, due to privacy policies? You could definitely be a stalker, even though you seem fine!” they replied, pushing their glasses up their nose and shifting their weight between their feet.

“Hey!” Claudia looked up from the flyer, “I can vouch for him! Is Callum super nerdy? Yeah. Awkward? Of course. But a stalker? Not that I know of.”

“Always nice to have a vote of confidence,” he muttered, staring out the window and wishing he was better at being bold while Kazi and Claudia continued to argue in the background about his stalking potential, and that Netflix show _You_.

How many chances in this life would he have to meet someone like her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> -Claudia is reading a book called Harrow the Ninth. I have not read it, I googled “books about necromancers”, got a notification that someone tried to access my webcam (so that’s great), and found a list on goodreads—“top books about necromancers”, and this was on there. I just wanted any book on necromancy so I could be like “haha look claudias reading a book about raising people from the dead” but this seemed serendipitous.  
> -There's a loose reference to Avatar if anyone saw it.  
> -The title is for sure taken from Taylor Swift's song Enchanted, which is a hella romantic song to me. I think the million random things that have to come together for two people to meet is such a mind blowing idea. In R & C's case: going to the same university, Rayla choosing to work at that shop, schedule to work that day, and have it raining so Callum rushes inside. I liked the idea of when either sheer luck or the universe has to intervene and add a million more circumstances so you can have a chance to re-do that crucial first impression.  
> -Sorry I'm so mean to the poets!! That's not how I really feel!! Minor spoiler: Rayla and Callum do change their tune by the end of the story lol


	2. Across the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been hoping to see her again, somehow, but it wasn’t like he could just hang around the Kafé like an actual stalker. Although, as their eyes met across the rink, he couldn't have expected it’d be like this. 
> 
> Callum raised his hand and waved, a bit cautiously, and he watched in mild horror as her face darkened into three different shades of red. 
> 
> “You!” she roared, pointing her stick at him in accusation. 
> 
> Him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It may help you to know Rayla's last name here is Yue.  
> cw: A character is recovering from cancer.)
> 
> The second time, he's in the bleachers and she's on the ice.

It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for Callum to be spending his Friday nights like this; legs up against the wall, sketchbook abandoned in favor of his fifth reread of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ , and absolutely zero desire to emerge from the little cocoon he had made for himself in his tiny, rather cramped, off-campus apartment.

That’s not to say he was bitter about the size of his apartment! No, not at all, even though his mother had married his (very) well off step-father fifteen years ago luxury still felt foreign to him—the small living space was a welcome break from the museum-like homes they had lived in as Harrow went from mayor, to senator, to president of Katolis.

This place, with a bedroom big enough for a twin bed and a small easel, even though it was a temporary living space until he graduated next year, it seemed to give Callum the closest feeling to home that he had known in a long time. Close, but, not _quite_ right. This week his bed was against the back corner, last week it was against only one wall, maybe next week it’d be in the middle of the room against no walls like a psychopath would do; no matter how many ways he rearranged his place, it never gave him that comfortable, home-y feeling.

Callum set his book down, giving up on concentrating on the story to let himself be emo for a second. Even though Nexus University’s Moon campus in Katolis had this otherworldly arts program he was proud to have been a part of for three years; there was a very big part of him that wondered if he had never felt at home here because, pardon his cliché, home was still out there waiting for him.

He turned his head to look towards the framed photo of his family sitting on his nightstand. Traveling across the newly-opened borders (in large part thanks to Harrow) to find a place he felt at home was, as it had been for most of his adolescence, a bit of a pipe dream.

His mom’s eyes sparkled up at him from the picture, and he picked it up to get a closer view. She looked so different now, it was a bit hard to believe she was six years in remission since this had been taken. All four of them (five, including Ezran’s toad) had celebrated with a new picture the day they found out. You could see the happy tears in their eyes if you were looking closely. He thinks that was the very first time in their lives they weren’t miserable posing for a family portrait.

So, theoretically, he guessed he could travel now. But even when they were in the clear it was hard to let go of the fear that ruled their lives for years. What if he went to the Sky branch of Nexus University in mid-west Xadia, like he had dreamed of, and…?

Callum was still looking at the family portrait when a notification _pinged_ on his phone, and he spared it a glance. These were definitely some big feelings he was having; a break from it may do him well.

 _The game’s in thirty minutes, am I driving or are you?_ wrote Claudia.

The what? Did they have game night or something?

Oh, hello Callum, that’s right, he committed to going to the Moon Nexus Nets’ first game of the season. To support Soren. The guy who bullied him for years. That guy.

 _I can’t anymore, I forgot, I’m working on a group project._ He absolutely was not.

That sweet serotonin immediately rushed into his veins. Callum wasn’t sure there was a greater relief than breaking plans he never wanted to make in the first place. Still, he paused, looking at the three dots appearing by Claudia’s name, he did make a promise and the guilt had quietly set up shop in his stomach.

_No you don’t, we literally talked yesterday about how grateful you were to not have any group projects this semester because you hate them._

Whoops. Did he really tell her that? What did he do that for? Minus well commit to the lie, he was in too deep now.

_No, remember, I dropped Econ 1300 and picked up Psych 2300 for my humanities gen ed credit. There’s a project for that._

Callum quickly put his phone down, and leapt under his weighted blanket as if his responsibilities would simply come back another time once they couldn’t find him beneath all the fabric. The incessant buzzing made that hard though, so he groaned and gave in to look at what Claudia was saying.

_No!! You said that class starts next Monday, so you don’t have work for it yet!_

Who gave Claudia the right to have this freakish memory?! Wasn’t that supposed to be his thing?!

_It’s okay if you don’t want to go, I get needing time to recharge._

_That being said, we don’t have to stay for all three periods._

“Go on,” he said aloud.

_We can show up late, leave early, I can give you all of the gossip on the team, and later we can swing by Barius’ Bakery to grab those tarts you like._

Sold.

_It would mean a lot to Soren. You know Dad’s never been to one of these, and it’s his last home opener game since he’s (hopefully) graduating this year._

Callum winced sympathetically; she should have stopped while she was ahead, now he was just feeling guilty all over again.

_Okay, okay, you had me at the tarts, no need to pull the Daddy Issues card. I can pick you up, where are you at?_

_(: Tarts are on me! I’m at the Kafé right now, do you want anything while I’m there?_

He quickly typed back, _Is the girl with the chai lattes there?_

 _No, I don’t see her._ Darn. _And I doubt anyone can make them like her._

A small part of him had been hoping to see her again, although he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he actually did. 

_“Well_ ,” he thought to himself as he typed to Claudia to expect him in thirty minutes and that he didn’t need anything from there, “ _might not have been meant to be_.”

* * *

He was definitely a little miffed to be pulled away from his do-nothing-night, but how upset could he really be with cotton candy in one hand and popcorn in the other?

Still, “You owe me,” he said, as much as someone could say when their mouths are full.

“Ugh, _gross,_ aren’t you supposed to be royalty or something?” Claudia groaned, turning back to reply to him as they walked down the stairs towards the glass walls of the rink. True to her word, they had arrived after the game was in its first period so most seats were already filled. Their whole section was full of people decked out in red and gold, it was a little overwhelming to the eyes.

“ _Royalty_ and _the president’s stepson_ are two very different things.” Callum haughtily replied. “The difference being that I cannot be married off for a political gambit and may mingle amongst the commoners such as yourself.”

Claudia threw her popcorn at him and angrily scoffed, “Bold words from a man with ink on his face.”

“What?!” Callum dropped his snotty pretense and got his phone out to check his reflection, “Where? I washed it for at least ten minutes!”

Claudia cackled and turned back to file into their seats by the glass. Perks of being related to the starter goalie included prime seats, apparently.

“I do feel a little hurt being called a ‘commoner’ though” she replied in what she probably intended to be a nonchalant way.

Callum was surprised for a second before it dawned on him he was truly the Idiot of The Day. Normally, yeah, Claudia was never the person to feel upset over offhand comments. But, even though he didn’t mean anything by it, it was pretty thoughtless of him to joke about Claudia’s ‘commoner’ status. Especially taking into account how last month’s presidential election went for their parents.

 _“Viren was already such a grouchy person, even before losing by the widest margin in Katolian history to his former running mate_ ,” Callum reminded himself. “ _He’s probably even worse now_.”

Callum winced, taking his seat as well, “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. I’ll be more mindful about that from now on.”

She spared him a glance, “I can tell you mean that, I appreciate that you apologized.”

Claudia paused, and Callum knew without a shred of doubt what was coming next.

“But you know what would _really_ make it up to me?”

Yep, there it was.

Callum groaned and furtively glanced around, “Now?! Here?!” She wouldn’t make him do the dance here. There were children here, for God’s sake.

Claudia got her trademark chaotic gleam in her eye, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let you know when.”

He liked Claudia so much more when she was bribing him to go to Soren’s last opening match.

Callum let a sigh heave out of his body, “Yeah. I deserve that.”

Now that he had gotten his once-daily required social blunder out of the way, Callum turned his attention to the action on the ice to try and come up with some hockey-related question to change the subject as quick as he could. He was grateful if he had to be there, they got to be right next to the glass so they could really see the players move. They were so fast he had to imagine if they were sitting any further up they’d look like tiny electrons darting around in coordinated chaos.

Suddenly, the glass rattled as a player _slammed_ into it and Callum (very reasonably, he thought) yelped and jumped out of his seat.

“ _Oh folks it’s getting ugly this second period, where are the refs?! Naimi-Selari-Nykantia has just tripped Strawbear into the boards, and he’s taking a second to recover! Folks I doubt that was an accident!”_

“I would very much appreciate if you would get off of my ass, Nyx!” the player wearing red and gold politely barked at the player in blue-grey.

“Well I dunno how my stick ended up under you! Definitely not my fault. Sounds like you need to look where you’re going!”

Finally, a whistle blew, and Callum watched a little enraptured as a ref came to break it up and escort the blue-grey player to the time-out (penalty?) box.

“Aw well, ‘till next time then, red,” blue-grey called out as they skated to the box, tilting their helmet as if they were winking. The timer above the box was set to two minutes.

“I’d prefer there be no next time, thank you!” red-gold called back before skating back towards their own goal.

Well, that was definitely crazy, although Callum had no idea if this was a good or bad thing for them. He leaned over towards Claudia to discreetly ask, “So, ah, just a random question, which team is ours again?”

She sputtered, “Callum, you have been going to school here for _three years!”_

“I just take classes here, you should know sports aren’t exactly my forte!”

“Oh what _ever_ Mr. Pretentious, I know for a fact this isn’t the first game you’ve been to! We invite you every year!”

Callum shook his head back and forth while leaning back in his seat, ticking off on his fingers, “Last year I had food poisoning from the stadium food, the year before that we were so far in the back I couldn’t even tell what was going on.”

“Wha—then why are you eating their cotton candy again if it made you sick?!”

“That is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Some things are worth being stuck in the bathroom for.”

Claudia gaped at him for a second before relenting, “Yeah, okay, I get that.” She looked back towards the glass, “Fine, fine, I’ll take pity on you. You see the players in red-and gold? Those are the Nexus Nets. Our team. Nexus University. The University of Nexus.”

“I know where we got to school, Claudia!”

She _tsk_ ed at him, “And somehow avoided paying attention to everything but your little art bubble.” Callum raised a finger to protest, then wisely reconsidered.

“And the ones in blue-grey?”

“The Midnight Desert State Soulfangs. That one in the box? Soren says most people call her Nyx, he’s always complaining about how she’s one of the shadiest centers in the college league. Always seems to be where people are injured, but never the one to blame. The only person I heard him complain about more is our own center, the new alternate captain.”

This was a lot of new information for something he was only mildly interested in. “New _alternate_ captain? So there can be more than one? Did Soren make captain this year?”

Claudia’s face darkened almost imperceptibly before quickly righting itself again, “No, goalies can’t be captains, and he’s too good of one to change positions this late in his career.”

“Is he disappointed?”

There her face went again, “No, Soren’s not.”

She was quiet for a second, and Callum wasn’t sure if he had struck another Daddy-issues nerve. What does one say in these situations? Can you send a sympathy card, _Sorry your dad sucks, here’s a coupon for a brand new one and a return label for the jerky one?_

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of him. My parents and Ez, too. And I bet his teammates.” Claudia brightened, and chuckled a little.

“Well, maybe not _all_ of them. See how they’re in formation on the ice right now?”

Callum nodded, quietly accepting the fact he was probably going to have to learn some passing knowledge of hockey now.

“You know Soren already, obviously, and the two guys in front of him are the d-men and co-captains. Soren calls them Shortcake and Tracker.” Claudia pointed at the two players in front of Soren. “I have absolutely no clue what their real names are, if they have them. Or what they look like without all that padding and headwear. They’re like superheroes that way, just with no powers. But they do get secret identities and great butts from constantly squatting on skates. Which is kinda a superpower in itself, don’t you think?” If he didn’t intervene now they may end up ranking the players’ butts for the rest of the night.

“Bit off topic, Clauds. You aren’t wrong though,” he said, observing their glutes from a purely artistic point of view. “What’s the deal with the other people?” Callum asked, pointing at the rest of the team closer to the neutral zone of the ice. They were still waiting for the puck to drop after Nyx had been put in the bad-player box.

“Those three are all the offensive skaters. The ones on the wings Soren calls Light Sabar and Marco.” Claudia turned to him, and conspiringly lowered her voice as much as she could in a stadium full of people, “Now Shortcake and Tracker, the d-men, are both dating, which Soren is super bummed about, he’s had a thing for—”

Action on the ice distracted Callum and interrupted Claudia; the puck had dropped and one of the Nets’ players shot after it like lightning, taking the puck with them deep into Soulfang territory. It took the other players a second to catch up.

Callum definitely wasn’t into sports. Wasn’t for him. But whoever this was, even he could see they were _talented_. It was hard to make them out, they were such a blur as they darted between players. A couple Soulfang Serpents crashed into each other in their haste to keep up with them.

“ _Oh folks we should have known Yue wasn’t going to let this power play go to waste. Naimi-Selari-Nykantia’s only got thirty seconds left in the box, can she do it? Can she score before Nykantia’s time is up?”_

If Callum couldn’t hear the player scoff at the announcer, he definitely saw her whip the puck towards the MDU Soulfang’s goal in answer. A horn blared throughout the entire stadium.

“ _GOOOOOOOOOOAL!”_

Everyone but Soren skated up to the star shooter, clapping the back of their helmet in congratulations. It was the first time the whole game Callum couldn’t keep his eyes off the ice. “Who’s _that_?” he breathed, “That was _amazing_! I’ve never seen someone move so quick before.”

He was too focused on the ice to notice Claudia quirk an eyebrow at him in interest. “That, is the alternate captain this year, their new center. Soren’s always griping about her—he’s probably just jealous she’s starting this year when there’s other seniors on the bench and she’s still just a junior like us. Plus the whole captain thing.”

Callum noticed the ‘A’ on the corner of her jersey, and he guessed that was what marked her as an alternate captain. She was gesturing with her gloves towards the penalty box, and Callum felt he could reasonably guess she was most likely taking advantage of the fact the gloves were so big you couldn’t really tell which fingers were being held down and which two ones were specifically held up.

“Does she have a nickname too?” he asked, eyes glued on her as she skated up to who were probably two coaches sternly glaring at her antics. She just skated so fluidly, he could have sworn she was floating. _You know_ , he thought, _I can definitely see the appeal of hockey now._

If he had been looking, he would have noticed Claudia smirk at him, “Mostly Soren just calls her, ‘pain in my ass.’”

Callum balked on behalf of this girl he didn’t know, “That’s a little rude. What’s she ever done to him?”

“I’m sure every goalie would appreciate if their star center would stop taunting the other team to goad them into shooting unnecessarily.”

Callum laughed a little and watched the pain-in-the-ass skate away from the coaches and do just that to one of the Soulfang Serpents; the way she was tapping her stick on the ice was akin to a bullfighter waving a flag. He saw the two coaches, one with long white hair and the other blonde, shake their heads in kindred disappointment.

“You know, I’m pretty sure Soren’s having a get-together tonight after the game. Depends on whether they win, or lose. We can still go to Barius’ and then his party, if you’re up for it. I’ve never been to one before, you’re aware I make it a habit to not interact with his hockey bros, but I could make an exception.” Claudia elbowed him, “You know, she might be there, if you wanted to talk to her. ‘ _Oh you were just so fast. I’ve never seen anyone move so quickly. Could I have your autograph?’_ ”

Callum felt his face flush, and finally broke his transfixion to turn to see Claudia snickering into her hand, “What? Talk to—talk to her?! I don’t even know her.” Was that _his_ chest heaving, and was it suddenly scorching hot in this hockey rink? Shouldn’t they let the Zamboni man know about that? “Besides, you know I’m committed to the coffee shop girl.” Callum was definitely deflecting, but if he was being honest, there was a dose of semi-serious truth there.

“The one who literally ran out to get away from us when her shift was up?”

“Hey—that’s not…entirely true, I think.”

The horn blared throughout the stadium, startling Callum out of his seat for the second time that night (though to be fair he was already on edge from thinking about coffee shop girl and how he was sort of betraying his probably-romanticized memories of her with this new crush on the snarky, quick, proud and _soso_ talented hockey player).

“ _And that’s the third goal from Yue this night, the second hat trick of her career! There’s still a whole period left folks, will the Midnight Desert State Soulfangs be able to respond to the two point deficit?!”_

Callum wasn’t entirely sure what a hat trick was, but he watched ‘pain-in-the-ass’ take a victory lap around the rink, and he couldn’t help but stand up to cheer her on. If he was louder than anyone else in his section, that was no one’s business but his own. It was a really good play, obviously.

Even as the rest of the crowd started to settle back down, Callum was still so caught up in the exhilaration of actually caring about a sport he stayed standing to cheer her on during her skate around the rink. She stopped halfway through the lap though, and if Callum didn’t know it was crazy, he would have thought she was looking towards him.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and saw Claudia had that chaotic gleam in her eye again.

_No._

“There a price for admission to his party though—”

_No no no._

“I’ll take that jerk-face dance now, please.”

“Here?! Now?! In front of—them?!”

“I’m sure you are well aware all promises of a jerk-face dance are non-refundable, and cashable upon the receivers request. Well, I request now.”

 _Minus well get it over with_.

Callum took a steading breath, and felt his body begin to move in a vaguely jig-like, chicken-dance hybrid. He had been able to practice this at least once a year ever since Ezran was born. This performance would be his magnum opus. Claudia began to clap to his beat, and some of the people sitting around them joined in to clap with her. After getting over the initial embarrassment, Callum had to admit he was starting to feel himself a little.

Until he noticed the player from earlier was _definitely_ watching now, frozen on the ice. Well, he was in too deep in his performance to stop now. Plus he had a feeling Claudia, who was still leading the clapping, would only make him finish it later. _Just ignore the cool hockey player who is definitely judging you. Pretend she’s not there. Pretend she’s in her underwear. Wait-no, no don’t do that._

“Alright Claudia, can I be done—”

“ _Oh folks, this is just uncalled for! Naimi-Selari-Nykantia has charged Yue from behind, even though she didn’t have the puck! How did Yue not hear her coming?!”_

Claudia didn’t say he could stop, but Callum immediately whirled around to look at the ice.

“ _She’s still down, why isn’t she getting up?!”_

The rest of his section stood with him, anxious to look over each other to see what exactly was happening in the rink.

“ _Oh, there she is, but she’s favoring that left skate—oh, the gloves are off folks! This won’t be pretty!”_

Sure enough, not only were the gloves off but helmets too as they squared off. Nyx was desperately trying to placate the Nexus Net’s alternate captain, hands held up to show she meant no harm (though that was probably too little too late).

Brilliant white hair whipped around as the star forward launched herself at Nyx. Callum took a double take—white hair? Was that…?

“ _It looks like Strawbear and Corvus have split the two up, and are helping Yue out of the rink. Doesn’t look too good for her. Will the Nexus University Nets’ be able to survive the rest of the third period without her?!”_

It looked like the three of them were heading Callum’s way, and his breath caught in his throat as he confirmed, yeah, that was the girl from the coffee shop. This definitely wasn’t the time to be thinking about it, but _wow_ his memory hadn’t been failing him. She really was that dynamically beautiful; especially now in her uniform, cursing out the other team while she was being carried off. He had been hoping to see her again, somehow, but it wasn’t like he could just hang around the Kafé like an actual stalker. Although, as their eyes met across where she was in the rink, he hadn’t expected it’d be like this. He hoped she was okay. 

Callum raised his hand and waved, a bit cautiously, and he watched in mild horror as her face darkened into three different shades of red.

“ _You!_ ” she roared, pointing her stick at him in accusation. Shortcake and Tracker struggled to hold her back, and even the glass wall seemed to shake in fear (which he should probably feel more of, but couldn't seem to muster).

“ _Me_?” he hesitantly gestured towards himself.

“Yes, _you!_ Just who do you think you are, sitting there with your girlfriend, with your face, and, and _distracting_ me?! I would’ve seen her coming if you hadn’t— _Who dances like that at a hockey game?!_ ” She increased her efforts to fight out of Shortcake and Tracker’s hold, much to their vocal protest. Callum had a very inappropriate impulse to pull out his sketchbook, which was thankfully still on his bed back at his apartment. Although admittedly he felt too wonderstruck to make a move or a sound anyway. _God,_ he marveled, _she’s a spitfire_. Then what she said sunk in.

_Girlfriend?_

And then, a little off-topic, _Did she not like my dancing?_

The bigger of the two players trying to help her spoke up, “You must stop, you will just exacerbate your injury. _You are unexpectedly strong, please stop squirming.”_

“C’mon, Ray, we need to go get you checked out to make sure it’s nothing serious.” Shortcake tried to persuade her before his eyes landed on Callum and he really noticed him for the first time, “Hey, wait, is that the guy you were telling us about from—”

Wait, what? The guy from where? There was a guy? Was he _the guy_?

She made a sound akin to one of those screaming goats, “ _Nope!_ No! No thank you! That’s enough! You can take me away to die now. Goodbye!” Shortcake and Tracker hurried to catch up with her as she attempted to hobble away on her own, and Callum tried in vain to sputter out a protest for her to stay and let him _explain._ But all he seemed to be able to do was sweat and stammer, the situation too overwhelming and his mind racing too fast.

“It’s not quite that dire. You are at no risk of dying.” Callum heard Tracker mutter as they lifted her arms around their shoulders and skated away.

Finally his stupor broke, “Wait no, _no! Stop!_ You’ve got it all wrong—” Callum called to deaf ears as she was escorted off of the ice into the tunnel probably leading to their lockers, “she’s not…my girlfriend. We weren’t on a date the other day.” _Ugh._ “It was nice to meet you again.” He weakly yelled after her. 

“ _Wow_ , it has just not been working out for you huh? Can you believe she thought _I_ was with _you?_ No offense, you know, it’s just, been there, tried that, not my taste.”

Callum just fell back into his seat and buried his face in his hands, as he had been apt to do every time he had met this barista-hockey star. He felt Claudia pat his shoulder.

“Hey, maybe next time you’ll be able to actually talk to her. And, worth noting, she for sure saw your dance moves! So, she’s definitely got to be attracted to you now.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” he sighed, resigned to never see barista-hockey star girl again with a shred of his dignity intact, “Can we just go to Barius’ now?”

Claudia stood up from her seat and gestured for him to move. “C’mon lover boy, let’s go drown your sorrows in some tarts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Anyway if it wasn’t clear Rayla Yue plays for the Moon Nexus Nets and she’s badass at it. Claudia does not know her in the hockey context because of the limited information she gets from Soren and also the whole story would fall apart if she could have plausibly introduced them if she knew her. What does that mean for me? I had to come up with like a million different ways to address Rayla without using her name. Spoiler, Callum learns her name next chapter because that was super annoying!!  
> -My hockey knowledge largely comes from the web series Check, Please! If you haven’t read it yet, I’m telling you to right now. Basically all you need to know is in hockey they all get their own nicknames. Claudia does not know the real names of the players but I do:  
> -Shortcake: Gren Strawbear. Like strawberry shortcake haha  
> -Tracker is actually Corvus! Originally it was crow, because corvus is another name for crow, but then I figured people would confuse him with crow master and some of the comedic beats wouldn’t land.  
> -Marco is Marcos. I don’t talk about it in the story, but he definitely had an older sibling named Polo in the program years before him.  
> -Light Sabar is the elf from the final episode of the third season that helps Marcos up, Sabah.  
> -Soren's is Sor-bear, but he calls himself Sorine-the-Mastermind. That is also his portmanteau for his poetry. Spoiler lol.  
> -Rayla does have a nickname besides "pain in my ass," but I want the flexibility to change it later if I want to. Right now I'm torn between Rayna, Shadow, and Rey. None of them feel quite right.
> 
> If you'd like, I appreciate kudos(:
> 
> Chapter 3 Preview: Sometimes the Universe makes dumb cute boys smile at you, because there is no other reason why dumb cute boys (who have girlfriends!) would do that. It’s the Universe’s fault then, that she’s hustling across campus, out of breath and ten minutes late to class because of some beyond stupid boot she has to wear.


	3. Passing Notes in Secrecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third time, they're in class and there's only one seat left.

Rayla felt a little bit bad for the random passersby who were being shoved aside while she raced, as much as someone could with a fucken’ ten pound boot, across the quad. To be fair though they should have been able to hear her panting and yelling at people to move from a mile away.

This was honestly one of the top five most embarrassing moments of her college career. Even worse than when she tripped over the net during her first collegiate game and got her skates tangled in it. Hell, _even worse_ than when she called her freshman year RA ‘mom’ after ranting about her roommate leaving her socks all over the room. Rayla hated being one of those people literally running to get to class while everyone else was walking at a leisurely pace. No, she didn’t particularly care about her classes but at least normally she wasn’t, she checked her phone, _10 minutes_ late _?! Well fuck me_ , she berated herself.

Rayla thought she left her apartment on time, but was she supposed to suddenly gain magical psychic abilities and predict there would be construction blocking her usual route _on top of_ her useless sprained ankle? She took another moment to look at the buildings being torn down by the quad to make room for up-charged luxury apartments. On second thought, there _had_ been _some_ signs up for just a few weeks saying there was going to be construction. But, c’mon, honestly, who reads those.

The stone pathway that stretched from one end of the green quad where she was all the way to the practically-dismantled building her class was in had to be only wide enough one beefy person could walk by at a time. Or one Rayla sized person with a foot better suited for a fucking robot. _There really needs to be a more inclusive-minded person designing campus infrastructure,_ she justifiably complained to herself.

Looking ahead down the path, an actual baby-looking person, or probably just a freshman, was standing in her way. They were looking hopelessly from their phone, to the buildings surrounding them, and then back to their phone. Despite the fact that this was a pathway meant for _walking_ , or, in Rayla’s case hustling, they just aimlessly turned in a circle. Rayla grumbled up to them but took a centering breath before talking like Dr. Villads had been working with her on.

“Where do you need to be?” she asked, not unkindly, but the slight twitch in her eye was probably off-putting.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, I’m in your way! But, um, I’m looking for Caldera Hall, do you have any idea—?”

Rayla sighed, and forced herself to release some of the tension left her shoulders, “Yeah, I had Chem there last year with Dr. Ibis.” She pointed off to her right, “See that building, with the columns in front of it? It’ll be in there. The first digit in the room number corresponds to what floor it’s on, by the way.”

The freshman nodded and clutched their phone in their hand, “Columns. First number. Got it.” They were still standing there though; Rayla grumbled a little under her breath and walked around them off the path into the muddy grass. Screw it, she was just going to let mud get in her boot. It was just going to be a fact of life at this point. 

“Sorry!! Thank you!!” they called after her. 

Rayla kept walking, but waved her hand back at them in that universal, “whatever/no big deal/you’re welcome” way. She was three quarters of the way across the quad now, and after checking her phone, _15 minutes_ , she could see the end. Had she ever been this late before? What exactly _was_ the punishment for being late? Do most professors even care?

_Maybe Professor Viren won’t be that…_

No, she couldn’t even bother finishing the sentence.

The Moon branch of Nexus University was practically ancient. Rayla knew from the campus tours it was here long before Katolis was a country, and some of the buildings on campus really looked like it. Her psych building, just at the end of the uneven path, was built from stone and looked like a miniature castle. She was practically to the end of the path, if she picked up the pace just a little more…

“Excuse me, but only girls going to hell wear short-shorts like those. This breeding ground for sin has probably manipulated you into thinking that is acceptable; this is why women have no place going to college. Thankfully, _I_ am here to put you on the path towards salvation. Do you have a moment to discuss our Lord—"

There he stood blocking the end of the path, like the final boss in all of the video games Rayla had played as a kid. A campus preacher.

“You must be _kidding_ me!” she complained to Garlath in the sky. Today of all days, she absolutely did not have time for some random old man on a college campus trying to berate her into converting. Especially creepy ones who thought of themselves as Gods—although with this guy’s long white hair and extraordinarily deep voice, she could sort of see where he could have gotten the idea from. 

“Young lady, that _attitude_ is unbecoming for a—” he began before Rayla simply picked the man up and deposited him to the side off the path where he landed flat on his ass. He laid there sputtering in the mud, disbelief on his face that she, a _feminine_ person, hadn’t even broken a sweat moving him out of the way. Rayla didn’t pay him any more mind. She was finally at the end of the path.

What an odyssey. At least no one tried to get her to take a survey or donate to their student organization.

No time to lose, Rayla took the stone-slab stairs up to the building as quick as she could, bemoaning to herself, _Just four more days of this boot, just four more days. Why doesn’t this building have any ramps? No one likes stairs!_

Once she got inside, the slightly musty smell of the building greeting her nose, she paused at the classroom door. Rayla had such a single-minded focus on just making it there relatively on time that now she was about to go into the class she wasn’t too sure.

 _Well, it couldn’t hurt to double check the class and time right?_ No, she checked her phone, Psych 2300: Psychology of Del Barian Society, Room 104, Mondays at 2:00-4:55 pm. She had it exactly right.

Rayla grimaced at the ceiling-high wooden door leading to what was sure to be a _rousing_ discussion of the egalitarian aspects of Del Barian society. Last chance to weigh her options. Going in this door meant everyone in the smaller-sized class would turn and look at her while she sat down. But it would also mean missing class and pissing off her student athlete advisor. And her coach. And her dad. And her coach-dad.

That last one may have been the kicker, though her independent pride wouldn’t let her admit that.

 _“_ Well, I did come all this way,” she whispered to herself as she opened the door.

It felt like all heads snapped towards her. Not unlike when Cinderella in the Disney cartoon entered the ballroom and the whole room stopped to look at her; except in Rayla’s case she had a five-ton boot instead of a dainty glass slipper. She could’ve been imagining it, but the eyes of the people sitting in the aisle seats seemed to be screaming, _turn back around! Get out while you still can!_

The auditorium-style lecture hall descended down to a stage where Professor Viren had a heavily erased and re-written on a chalkboard. He definitely had to have dragged it out of a supply closet somewhere because this room absolutely had a working electronic display board. This guy, honestly. Rayla wished _she_ could run the worst campaign for president Katolis had ever seen and then get set up with a cushy pity job from her alma mater.

“The Casual, Meaningless Commitment to Families and Marriage in Del Barian Society” was written on the pretty dilapidated chalkboard. _Not this again._

“Would you care to have a seat, or would you prefer to stand?” Viren called out from where he was lecturing. His tone wasn’t exactly threatening, but his crossed arms, knit brows, and clenched piece of chalk suggested otherwise. Rayla rolled her eyes, it looked like he was in another one of his moods.

All of the students had to have rehearsed this beforehand, because in unison they all found a way to avoid her gaze as she looked for a seat at one of the tables. A slight panic settled in her gut as Rayla swept her eyes across the room, seeing absolutely no open chairs. Viren cleared his throat and pointed towards her left. Rayla turned, and felt her breath get knocked out of her body.

There was definitely a seat available.

Callum, his name had stubbornly lodged itself in her brain, peeked up at her from behind his laptop. His sketchbook and bag were spread out on the seat next to him, but he hurriedly put them by his feet. Presumably to make room for her. After their last encounter, this was a bit of a miracle.

Rayla felt a little bit like the freshman from earlier; looking from Callum, up to Viren, and back to Callum all without moving a muscle. Finally, Viren cleared his throat and she shuffled over to the open chair.

“Well, now that’s settled, let’s return to today’s topic. For whatever reason, Del Barians seem to believe that abandoning their husbands for partners who are allegedly better _listeners_ is a perfectly acceptable…”

Very slowly and very subtly, Rayla looked over at Callum through her peripherals. He had picked up his sketchbook from the ground onto his lap and was gently tapping his pencil against it with soft hands. He started to move, maybe to draw something, but stopped himself before repeating the process all over again. His hands were on the bigger side. Not that she noticed.

Her eyes flickered away, up to his face, only to see he was glancing at her from the corner of his glasses too.

They both hurriedly looked away, as if it they did it fast enough that could erase the fact it just happened. Rayla put her hand on her cheek to cool off and cover up her warming face.

The awkwardness simmered for a second before Rayla bit the bullet and leaned over into his space to hiss, “You’re not supposed to be in this class.”

One of his eyebrows rose above the rim of his glasses. Her body erupted in goose bumps when his arm brushed against hers as he leaned to respond, “As of today, I am.” Neither of them moved from where they were leaning in.

Rayla did hazard a glance towards the front of the room to see Viren had written and crossed out, “Family Values?” on the board.

She turned back to Callum, “This class? On purpose?”

Callum pushed his hand through his hair and let a gentle sigh leave his mouth. For a second the mustiness of the building was overridden by the smell of fresh pastries. Rayla almost missed it when he responded, “They didn’t list the course instructor when I picked up this class. Now it’s too late to drop it.”

 _Oof._ That sucked. Now they were both stuck in this course.

Neither of them said anything for a breath. It wasn’t intentional, but after leaning in to whisper to each other they were close enough Rayla could see a minuscule blob of blue paint beneath his right eye. She gave herself a few seconds to bask in being close to him before reeling back to recalibrate herself. _What is **wrong** with you, he has a partner. You are the most disrespectful person in all of West Xadia, my Garlath. Control yourself. _

Instead she tried to focus on pushing some hair that had fallen out of her bun back behind her ear before resigning herself to make peace with cute-art boy so they could finish out the semester without the awkward memory of their last encounter hanging over their heads. Or hers, at least. Had she really yelled at him for “distracting” her at the game?

She turned her head up towards his, “I’m sorry for the—”

“Claudia’s not my—”

_Huh?_

She tried again, “Last time I saw you—”

“She’s just a—"

They both looked wide eyed at each other in confusion before dissolving into quiet chuckles, still mindful that they were in class and Viren’s vein in his forehead was about to blow from hearing their whispers carry across the room.

Rayla took the initiative after he gestured her to go first, “I’m sorry for blaming you for,” she lifted her boot up, “this.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what to say next. What had Dr. Villads been telling her at their last session?

“Life is like a river…,” _no, not that_.

“It’s okay to feel angry, frustrated, or embarrassed, but it’s not okay to express how you feel in a way that hurts people.” _Right, that_. She knew she was bad at feelings, or whatever, but they had been working on it. She could do this.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she continued, “and I shouldn’t have blamed you, your face, your girlfriend, or your dancing. I was scared about my ankle, and embarrassed to have been hit like that. But that didn’t justify it.” She opened both eyes, not even realizing she had closed one at the awkwardness of apologizing. By some miracle he was smiling at her in a way she hoped was proud or impressed.

“Have you been practicing that?”

She laughed, “No. Well, yes, just the feelings part though, with my counselor.”

Callum grinned a little broader, “No worries then, it’s great you’re working on that.” He paused, “I know it was no one’s fault, except probably that player on the Serpents.”

Rayla wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t some of her own fault too. She could have just not let herself be charmed by a dorky dance. _From a boy that has a partner you absolute mess_ , she reminded herself. 

She supposed she didn’t have to dwell on that this exact moment though, because at the mention of her injury Callum had turned his attention to anxiously look down at her ankle. Rayla didn’t feel inclined to focus on anything else but him putting his elbows on his knees to get a closer look at her ankle.

 _Girlfriend, Rayla._ It was hard to force herself to draw her body away from his gaze.

He glanced back to her, brows knit in worry, “How are you doing, by the way? Is it bad?”

“No, not really,” she flippantly shrugged off, “just a sprained ankle. It’ll be off by Saturday. Not in time for the game, but still, it could be way worse.”

He _hmmed_ , and Rayla felt flattered he seemed so concerned. He must have been a big fan of the hockey team.

“Anyway, Callum,” making her mouth say his name still felt so new and foreign but she liked the way it sounded, “what were you sayin’ before?”

He gasped, clearly remembering what was so important, and flailed his arms for second. Rayla lurched back a bit to avoid being accidentally whacked.

“Claudia’s not my girlfriend! That wasn’t a date! _”_

_Wait what._

For the second time that day, the peanut gallery whipped their eyes back to look at them. Callum couldn’t have intended to be as loud as he was, but Viren finally snapped his chalk in half.

“Yes, Callum, we are well aware you are not dating my daughter. _Thank you_ for the reminder. May I please return to teaching now?” Callum nodded mutely, but Rayla’s mind was racing. So those past two times she saw them, they weren’t… He was…

_Oh._

Callum sunk down in his chair after being called out and Rayla could have punched Viren for that.

Pushing aside what Callum had just revealed for just a moment, she turned in her chair towards him to try and reassure him, “Don’t take it too personally, Viren’s just bitter he has to work this job after losing the election to President Harrow. He got the least amount of votes _ever_ , can you believe that?”

Callum sunk deeper in his chair, “I may have heard something about that, yeah.”

That hadn’t helped as much as she hoped. And they had been pushing it with Viren, so Rayla tried to turn her attention back to the lecture.

“Now it is _apparently_ acceptable in Del Bar to leave your partner after ten years of marriage with two children, one exceptional and the other average. You, young person, why are you not writing this down?”

Never mind. Her time was better spent drafting plays. Before she really settled in to figure out how to best win against the Shiverglade State Scorpionbats that upcoming Friday, she took one last glance at Callum.

_Not dating. Huh._

* * *

It was probably a half an hour later that she got bored of playmaking and let her mind wander back to the boy sitting next to her.

He had given up on listening to the bullshit lecture too, and was sketching a landscape in his book. It was probably rude to watch without asking but she couldn’t help herself, so she compromised and only glanced over once.

The graphite piece had just as much soul and emotion as the portrait of his mom he had showed her. She didn’t recognize the place, at first, but eventually recalled it as the uneven mountains at the sky branch of Nexus University. She had been there once, at a game freshman year. She hadn’t ever thought of it before, but the mountains reminded her of the uneven towers Katolis’s capital building had. Even though she only looked at the landscape for a second, she felt the urge to check and see when the next away game would be. To see all of Xadia again. To go _anywhere_ and appreciate it half as much as his sketch did.

Callum pushed his sketchbook towards her; Rayla felt her face heat up in the shame of being caught before she saw he was smiling. He was always smiling at her.

“Do you like it?” he whispered.

“Obviously,” she whispered back, “have you ever been?”

He looked back down at the well-loved book, “No.” _Huh._

“Would you like to?”

His eyes were on her, but he was looking somewhere else, “Maybe.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. It was hard to tell, with his shaggy hair and glasses, but he seemed far away. _Alright, time to change the subject._

“We play a game there, this year. I’m sure you knew that though.”

Slowly, he came back, but was definitely confused. “No, why would I know?”

_All right, he’s single, fuck it lads, let’s do this._

“You can drop the act, Callum,” she drawled with a raised eyebrow. There, he was finally present after hearing his name. She’d say it over and over again if it would always get him to look at her like he was now.

Rayla hadn’t noticed before, but his eyes were the same green the meadow she played in as a kid was, fresh after it rained.

Callum’s knee lightly knocked into hers, and life raced into her heart. “What act?” he asked.

Rayla let herself smirk, “Well first you were at Katolis Kafé when I was working,” she held up one finger, “then at my game,” another, “and now at my class,” she put up the last one. “Clearly, you’re a spy. A spy for Phineas University.”

That got a laugh to burst from him, “I’m a what?” he asked incredulously, sounding not unlike Harry Potter. Rayla’s smirk grew even broader, and she noticed his hand twitched towards his pencil like it had earlier.

“Don’t deny it! I know the Peamingos are really gunning for the championship this year. It’s not surprising they sent someone to figure out our plays. What was your plan, to slowly gain intel on me and use your charms to _seduce_ me into revealing our teams secrets?” Callum sputtered on his saliva, “Maybe even take out their star player? You know, spy might have been too generous. You’re a honeypot.”

Rayla took more pride than she should have at the way his ears and neck instantly lit up in a vibrant red. Callum took a second to take a drink of water from his Camelback.

Once he was done, he cleared his throat and tilted his head towards her, “Was it working? Have you been _charmed_?”

 _Yes,_ she admitted to just herself and only quietly in the back of her mind.

He just was playing along, but Rayla lost her voice all the same.

“I don’t know, did you manage to learn anythin’? Gather any good intel?” she managed to get out.

“No!” he whisper-cried out with fake indignation, “That should prove to you I’m not a spy, I’d be a terrible one! I still don’t even know your name!”

How did he not know her name? He was right, he’d be a terrible spy.

“…Rayla.”

Her name sat between them for a beat, though there wasn’t a lot of space between them to begin with. She wasn’t sure when they had gotten so close she could smell the paint and pastries on him. _Oh Garlath if she could smell him then he could smell her. Did she remember to put deodorant on this morning?_

“Rayla,” he repeated, but it sounded like a song when he said it. “Well, Rayla, it’s nice to meet you.”

Rayla couldn’t respond, she was too busy trying to figure out a subtle way to check if her armpits smelled.  
  
She could’ve put her hand under her armpit to do a smell-check if Callum hadn’t put his own hand out to shake after ‘meeting’ her. _Maybe he likes a more robust smelling person?_ She reassured herself as she shook his hand. 

He had his patented goofy smile on, which was so unfair to Rayla when she was trying her hardest to focus. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, like he was right now, and the blue paint below his right eye disappeared beneath the folds whenever that happened. All in all it was very distracting. She completely forgot to be insecure about whether or not she smelled bad. 

“But unfortunately,” he dramatically checked around him and dropped her hand, "you were right. I am a spy for the Peamingos. And I have to return with some sort of intel. Someday I hope you can forgive me for this betrayal, Rayla.”

Maybe he really was a honeypot, because Rayla was so caught up in the soft way he said her name again she didn’t even register him reaching for her playbook until it was too late and he took it.

It was pretty impressive he was able to grab it without her noticing, considering her parents had trained in the art of stealth her whole childhood. 

She gasped in mock horror, “How could you?! After all we’ve been through, all we had!”

They both snickered, and she attempted to pry the book out of his hands. It wasn’t intentional, but her fingertips brushed against his as she did. She couldn’t help but hold onto the book because the electricity that flowed through her fingertips into her veins felt like magic. Over the book, Callum was smiling, but it wasn’t goofy like usual.

Almost instantly, Ralya sheepishly took the book back. At first she tried to glance away, incredibly flustered, but their eyes were like super-charged magnets.

They could have been looking at each other for five minutes or fifty, although it was probably just ten seconds. Long enough though for Viren to lazily glance up from his lecture-rant to see them definitely not paying attention.

“ _Callum_. Honestly I give you so many chances out of affection for your family, but no more. This will be your last warning, son.”

Callum dropped his eyes away, but still sent her an apologetic expression after. Not that she deserved it though; she should have been berated just as much. _Geez, what’d Callum ever to do Viren?_

Laptop put back in front her, Rayla forced herself to pay attention for the rest of the lecture. Or at least record every time he started going off topic. Then at least she could report him to the Dean so he could be replaced with someone who actually knew about the psychology behind Del Bar society.

* * *

Thankfully after a respectable amount of time, a folded note landed on her laptop. Callum was twiddling his thumbs and had his eyes glued to the ceiling, but she suspected it was from him all the same. She checked to see if Viren had noticed. Nope. _This guy’s got a death wish,_ she shook her head at him in pretend disappointment. 

Rayla excitedly, but in a very cool and collected way, opened it up. She had been expecting some message written in elegant handwriting that told you he was an artist before you could meet him. But this caricature of Viren with the speech bubble “I’m Professor I-Hate-My-Wife!” was way better than any note.

If there was an Olympic event for covering snorts up as coughs, Rayla would have won the gold medal just then. Hurriedly, she scribbled back “You could have a real career as a cartoon artist. But I think he’s missing his devil horns.”

Callum opened the paper up and solemnly nodded. The note came back to her in a second, this time with the added appendages to his head.

“This could hang in the Louvre,” she wrote back.

Even though that was clearly sarcasm, Callum’s face flushed from the compliment. _Cute._

Folded into a perfect square, the note flopped back in front of her. He had scrawled back, "Do you want me to make one of you?"

"Of _course_ _,"_ she whispered back. Callum had been avoiding eye contact, but gave her that grin of his before setting to work.

Rayla pretended to listen to the lecture while he continued to sketch his next note. When he passed it back to her, their hands brushed and Rayla felt the same magic from earlier dance through her hand.

The temperature rose in her face, but between his hands touching hers and this it'd be impossible to _not_ blush. She had been expecting a cartoon of herself, probably asleep drooling at her desk, but nothing quite so good as this. 

The sketch _was_ of her, but from the coffee shop when they met the other day. Rayla didn't exactly make it a habit to gawk in the mirror, but she did every once in a while. She was definitely aware she wasn't ugly, but she had never seen herself look like she did in the sketch. Here she looked... _beautiful._ Even though it had been dark and raining when they first met, her face seemed to glow.

So far each piece of his had stirred some sort of feeling in her, whether it was wanderlust for the Storm Spire Mountains or laughter at the very accurate portrait of Viren.

The feeling from this one felt too big to tackle at 3:00 pm on a Monday. 

Rayla quickly scribbled something on the back of the portrait.

“I hope that was okay?” he whispered to her.

She started to hand it back to him, not even bothering to fold it back up in the neat way he did to get it to him faster. 

That was until Mr. I-Don’t-Understand-Why-I’m-Divorced himself decided to notice they weren’t paying attention. His second piece of chalk snapped, and one half of it whipped into the face of a poor unlucky soul who sat in the front row.

“ _Enough_ , enough of this! Passing notes, in class?! Callum, you are excused from lecture today. I have had far too much of this. Farewell now. Be on your way.”

Rayla would have guessed from Callum’s general nerdy aura and the way he slunk in his chair earlier that he would have been _mortified_ at being excused from class. And he was, for a second. But he turned to her, steeled his shoulders, and whispered, “Eh, worth it.”

No, absolutely not, “Professor Viren, this is outrageous. You’ve been targeting Callum all day—”

“I have done no such thing young lady, I am offended you would even suggest that of my character. Now, unless you’d like me to report this outburst of yours to your athletic director you had best sit back down…It would be a _shame,_ to some people, if you had to miss your next game after this week’s.”

Conflicted, Rayla stayed hovering above her chair, wanting to leave but not one hundred percent willing to screw over her team. Callum slung his bag around his shoulder though, and whispered, “Rayla, it’s no big deal. I kinda expected this. I’ll…see you next time?”

Eyes locked on his, she hesitantly nodded and he walked out of the room.

“Excellent. Now, Del Barians have no moral qualms with suddenly leaving in the middle of the night with the excuse they ‘are going for a walk’—"

“Nope, not worth it,” Rayla declared, standing up from her seat.

Flabbergasted, Viren slammed his third piece of chalk onto the chalkboard. “This is gravely disappointing Ms. Yue. I’m sorry but you leave me no choice but to report this to your athletic advisor—”

“Whatever, tell Opeli what you want.” Rayla dismissed, putting her laptop back in her backpack.

Viren began to stutter, but cleared his throat to save face. “O-Opeli, did you say? Not Saleer?” Rayla just raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Grumbling, Viren waved his hand towards her, “Oh whatever. Just get out.”

Triumphant, Rayla gathered up her bag and hurried after Callum, letting the door slam behind her on the way out. Viren turned back to the board, grabbed the chalk, and tried to start the lecture again.

“So,” piped up the student in the front row who had been hit by the snapped chalk earlier, “can we leave too— _ow_!”

Viren picked out his fourth piece of chalk from the box.

* * *

Rayla burst through the door and looked to her left and right down the hall. There was no sign of Callum in the musty hallway outside of the classroom.

She tried leaving the building next, to see if he was still on the stairs in front. The breath of fresh air was intoxicating after being in that dusty old building for so long.

There were a couple people practicing their skateboard tricks on the stairs but Callum wasn't with them. He wasn't sitting on the stairs sketching either. 

It wasn’t exactly easy to rush around looking for a cute-art boy with this fashion accessory of hers, but Rayla had been hoping she'd be fast enough to at least see him. He must have gotten out of there quickly. _Damn_.

She unfolded the note in her hands, and turned it over to the back where she had written on it. Rayla had been hoping to give it to him now; she wasn't sure how long the boldness in her body would last. 

But no, he wasn’t anywhere in eye sight. Rayla stepped back inside the building to check for him one last time.

No, he wasn’t refilling his Camelback in the drinking fountain or anywhere near their classroom. Rayla folded the note and put it in the front pouch of her bag as she walked back outside. Now that she was in no rush, she could at least take the stairs slowly. _A ramp would still be better_.

Kicking a rock with her boot, Rayla resigned herself to walk across the quad towards the Kafé to start her shift early. She could give it to him next week, when she saw him again in class. Maybe by then Viren would be replaced with an actually qualified professor. 

A student waving a clipboard with a petition and wearing a too-cheery smile started to walk her way the moment Rayla stepped foot on the quad. _Ugh_. Next Monday could not come sooner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -What did she write on the note?? Ooo mystery.  
> -Should I be giving Viren the same nuance that he does in canon? Yes but I literally could not care less.  
> -If you’ve ever wondered what attending university is like, this is it! People trying to convert you, sell stuff to you, get you to sign a petition, or take a survey. Sometimes you also go to class.  
> -Peamingos are a combination of peacocks and flamingos hehe. Scorpionbats are obviously scorpions and bats. They are ugly
> 
> Chapter Four Preview: Normally he would panic at being trapped in his apartment complex’s elevator. And he is, a little bit, but he can think of worse people to be stuck with.


	4. Wishing You Were at My Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth time, they're in their apartment complex's decrepit old elevator.

Callum didn’t make tarts on his own very often. Usually, he’d bake them with his step-dad. They’d be lucky to get any though; his mom and Ezran didn’t even let them cool off before eating them, burned tongues be damned.

So when he did set the ingredients out for the tarts he liked to celebrate submitting his discussion post before midnight (as if he needed an excuse to eat more pastries); well, it felt a bit wrong to be making them by himself. _I should really give them a call, just to check in,_ he worried to himself as he worked at prepping the pastries.

The dough was all cut out into the little circles, and his favorite sweet strawberry jam was out on the counter ready to fill them. Callum’s apartment was on the smaller, older side and the oven that came with it was no exception. He popped it’s door open, and briefly wondered if he should clean the inside of it before trying to bake something. The entire inside of the oven was pitch black with burnt-over food from him and previous tenants. _Isn’t that a fire hazard?_ he questioned to himself as he filled the dough with jam. _Should I clean this before baking?_

Callum popped the tarts right into the thousand year old oven. _Nah,_ he dismissed, _I’m sure it’s fine._

He set the timer for seventeen minutes, and leaned back against the oven. The dirty dishes to his right seemed to be taunting him with the fact they weren’t dishwasher safe and needed to be cleaned by hand. If he was productive, he could probably wash them right now and be done in time for the tarts.

 _Or_ , he thought, considering his apartment keys hanging from the hook by the door, _I could just **not** do that. _

Decided, he grabbed his coat, scarf, and keys to lock the apartment door behind him. _When was the last time I checked my mail? Or took a walk?_ He asked himself as he walked down the hall towards the elevator. It was kind of a crapshoot, whether the elevator would show up or not, but he’d take his chances on an ancient elevator versus nine flights of stairs.

The flickering red light above the doors _ding_ ed, and they shuttered open to let him inside. Callum looked around it, trying to find a spot that seemed relatively clean enough to lean against before deciding to just stand in the middle.

There were at least three signs that he should have opened the doors back up to take the stairs: the cracked “1” button, the way the floor seemed to shake wherever he stepped, and the questionable smell that seemed to permeate the entire box.

 _But nine flights of stairs?_ He pushed the “1” button anyway. The entire box rattled, and shuddered down slow enough he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have time to both get his mail _and_ go for a walk. To pass the time, he took his phone out of his back pocket.

 _No service?!_ He groaned and put his phone back, just in time for the elevator to tremble to a stop at the fourth floor. Two white plastic laundry baskets stacked on top of each other shoved their way in; Callum flinched back just in time to avoid being hit in the face with them. 

“Oh, ‘scuse me.” A voice sang from behind the basket.

“No, problem?” Callum hesitantly asked more than assured. He couldn’t really see who was behind the basket, but the hopeful part of his heart thought the voice sounded weirdly familiar. Even though he’d only met hockey-coffee girl three times now, it was hard to mistake the thick Silvergrovian accent.

“Could you hit the ‘one’ for me? I’m takin’ this down to the washing machines. Obviously.”

“Uh, yeah,” Callum agreed, even it had already been pressed. “Hi, sorry, weird question, but you sound like someone I…?”

The baskets clunked to the floor, which only seemed to shake the elevator even more.

They blinked at each other.

“Hi,” Rayla breathed.

“Hey,” he responded, mouth involuntarily quirking into a little smile.

They paused, too stunned to come up with anything else to say.

Or anything good, really. “Are you stalking me?” He asked without thinking. _Yikes._ There definitely could have been a better opening line, but with the way his heart was beating it was a miracle he said anything at all.

“Am I—?” she cocked a hand on her hip, “Are you serious?”

“Well,” he softly smirked and held up a finger, “first you just so happen to be working at a coffee shop I go to.”

“I’ve worked there for _three years!_ ” She indignantly exclaimed.

“Buh buh buh! I’m not finished!” He wagged his finger at her. Rayla rolled her eyes in what he hoped was a fond way.

“Alright, go on then,” she motioned with her hand for him to keep going. He only did because of the way she was smiling and shaking her head at him.

“Then, you’re a new player at a hockey game my friend had to drag me to, you’re in my class I just transferred to—”

“This seems way worse for your case than it does for mine!”

“And now, here you are, in my building. Is that really laundry, or just your excuse to be in the same place as me?”

Rayla picked a tube sock probably from her hockey uniform out from the basket on top and slingshot into his face. Callum reeled back when he was hit, briefly bumping into the elevator walls. The shock of it reverberated throughout the box.

“ _Bleh! I've been shot!”_ He exclaimed over her cackling. That was truly the nastiest smell to ever assault his nostrils. Still, he smiled while she laughed. It wasn’t long until he joined in with her. There was very little difference from the way their bodies shook with quickly uncontrollable laughter and the way the elevator was increasingly starting to shudder.

_BAM!_

The elevator came grounding to a quick halt, immediately interrupting them; the floor display light said they were on the second floor but the doors weren’t opening. The overhead lights flickered on and off too; Callum let out a yelp very appropriate for the situation. Only when the elevator didn’t pick up speed again did the sinking feeling reach his stomach.

Not that it seemed to affect Rayla whatsoever. “Ugh, _this_ again?” she groaned, punching the emergency call button on the button panel.

“This has happened to you before?” he squeaked while grabbing onto one of the rails, the germs he was worried about earlier totally forgotten. 

“Yeah, it’s a pretty old building,” Rayla frowned while she pressed the ‘call’ button again, this time noticeably more aggressive. Like magic, sound came from the speakers.

“ _Yes_?” a mechanical voice broke through.

“Hey, your stupid elevator is stuck. _Again_.”

“Oh, well. That’s a shame. Alright. We’ll send maintenance. Hang tight dear, they should get you out of there in fifteen.” There was a clicking sound that meant the call ended.

“So,” Callum started, “when she said fifteen minutes does that mean…?”

Rayla took her letterman jacket off, laid it on the ground, and sat on it. Apparently, she was ready to set up camp for the long haul. “We’ve got at least a half an hour. Give or take.”

 _Oh man_.

“Oh man,” he repeated aloud this time, crossing his arms. The room felt increasingly smaller, so he closed his eyes and tried to will away the inevitable panic.

It didn’t work. Like a looping video, all he could think was “ _This room is small, I’m going to die here, this room is so small I’m going to die here, this room is so small, I’m going to—”_

 _“_ Hey, Callum? How are you doing?” Her voice cut above the noise, just barely.

“I, fine, it’s, this is,” when his brain was in overdrive like this, there wasn’t any thought to spare to make a cohesive statement.

“Callum!” She cut in again, and this time he did snap his head in attention. “Hey, I know it’s scary right now, but it _will_ be okay. This has happened to me before—all elevators’ have to have backup generators that keep it stuck in place, lights on, and emergency telephone on.” He nodded, almost imperceptivity. That all made sense, and it did help a little, but the walls were still closing in and his breath seemed to be escaping him.

“Hey,” she repeated as she stood, “your face looks a little freaked out. How can I help?”

How even could she? When he was little, his mom used to take his hands and breathe with him. They’d fill their lungs all the way, and push it out slowly. Sometimes, when she couldn’t be there (and when her health took a turn, that happened more than they liked) Harrow would hug Callum to his side and brush his knuckles back and forth on Callum’s forehead. Would she really feel comfortable with that?

She did offer though, and he couldn’t really think of anything else that could help.

He didn’t really know how to ask with words, and at this point it was doubtful he really could. All he could do was wordlessly lifted his hands from his sides and hope she could assume. Without hesitating, Rayla took them into hers and began to breathe. Every time she breathed in, she’d squeeze his hands a little, only releasing when they couldn’t take any more in. They repeated it, and repeated it, and repeated it again.

His mind finally started to slow down. Later, he’d replay this moment over and over until his body made him sleep. The way his hands wrapped completely around hers, the way her lips pouted and her brows knotted, the way their bodies unconsciously stepped in closer than strangers should.

But for now, he just breathed with her.

Until, finally, his heart and brain got back on the same page and he could stop reminding himself to breathe. Rayla must have noticed, because she squeezed his hands and let go with a relieved smile.

Now that he was done freaking out about potentially dropping to his death, he focused on the more pressing matters, like what the heck just happened.

 _Oh God,_ he thought, taking a quick respectful step back from Rayla. _You know, there’s no point being embarrassed about something I can’t control, but, her hands? Were in mine? That just happened?!_

Very subtly, he pinched the inside of his wrist. _Ow._

“Well,” Rayla clapped her hands together, “how’re you feelin’?”

“Better,” his voice sounded somewhat hoarse so he rubbed his neck, “thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Eh,” she nonchalantly waved his thank you off, shrugging her shoulders too. 

“No, seriously. That was valiant of you. Are you sure you aren’t a personal superhero?”

Rayla rolled her eyes, but he still took pride in her blush and the way she turned her head to hide a smile. “Yeah, I am, when I find time away from stalking you.”

“Wait—” he started, and she cackled again. “Well,” he began to gloat in fake triumph, “I knew it all along.”

 _Kkkkkchch!_ The elevator intercom scratched to life, interrupting the banter.

“Greetings, tenants. We have a crew working on the generator right now. The fire department sent a few strapping people as well. Do not worry, you are in very good hands.”

“ _Very good hands,_ right. Are you gonna finally replace this shitty old thing?” Rayla pointed her finger at the speaker in accusation, which was a funny in a way she didn’t intend since there was no way their landlord could see Rayla. Callum doubled checked the ceiling to be sure; yeah, there was no camera in here. This really was an old building.

“We hear your concerns. Feel free to send us your feedback to our online form, and we will certainly take it into consideration. Here at Lunar Apartments, we value our tenants safety as well as the historical integrity of her beautiful architecture.” The speaker turned back off, cutting Rayla from any sort of counter argument.

Rayla scoffed and stuck her tongue out at the speaker. Again, it was cuter than she intended. _She’s probably one of those people that yells at the TV._ Callum thought to himself.

“Fucken’ kooky old woman. She only manages this place to support her rare bird habit. Garlath forbid she actually remember she has residents.” Rayla glared at the speaker, stewing in anger, and Callum started to fully lean back on the rusting elevator railing. They didn’t talk for a few minutes as Rayla fumed; then the silence made his mind start to wander. _Is there even ventilation in here? Having no cameras really is a safety violation. What’s that stain in the corner of the rug? Blood? Urine? Barf? Ugh. How long has it been? Why aren’t we talking right now? Should we be talking? Is it weird that we aren’t talking?_

 _Breathe,_ he pushed a breath out and filled his lungs back up. Silence wasn’t going to work right now.

“Rayla, I feel like I’m starting to panic. Do you want to do something to take our minds off, you know, our impending death?”

Rayla huffed, “I wouldn’t let you die.” That was actually one of the nicest compliments he’d ever gotten. Maybe one of the weirder ones too, but he was still very flattered. “But, yeah, I feel at my wits end here too. What do you have in mind?”

“Have you heard of 20 questions?” Callum wasn’t sure how she’d react, but in hindsight a palm to her face should have been the most likely reaction.

“I haven’t played that since I was in middle school when someone tried to play it with me to ask me to the 8th grade dance.”

“Did it work?”

Her silence spoke volumes, but he didn’t rub it in. Beyond laughing a little, that is.

Rayla _hmphed,_ but appeased him, “20’s too much. We’ll be out of there before then. I’ll take 3.” She tossed her jacket she had abandoned on the floor into her first laundry basket, and plopped herself on top of it.

“5,” he bartered.

Rayla leaned back in her makeshift laundry basket chair, considering his counteroffer. “Fine,” she put her hand out, and they shook in agreement when he crouched to her level. “You can go first, question boy.”

Not her strongest nickname, but he’d take it. Callum motioned to her other plastic laundry basket, wordlessly asking if he could sit as well, and she nodded her assent to him. Thankfully it was full enough he didn’t sink into the basket. This was probably a cleaner spot to sit than the mystery-stain ground. Maybe. Depends how much she practiced, and how often these things got washed. Besides the socks though, Rayla wasn’t really a smelly person. Not, that he had noticed, or anything.

Finally comfortable though, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and considered what to ask. This first question _had_ to be interesting. If she didn’t like the it, and refused to play, he had exactly zero other ideas to pass the time. What could be a fun question to start with… _oh!_

“Alright, would you like to be famous? In what way?”

Rayla dug a jersey out of the basket she was sitting in, “I already am,” she cockily replied. “Perks of being a hockey star.”

“Okay, are you? I mean, I didn’t know who you were.”

“That’s not my fault, you aren’t a part of my target demographic! I’ll have you know, I’m very well known in the college hockey scene.” With false gravitas, she clutched the well-worn jersey to her chest and heaved a sigh. “Fame is a heavy burden, one that I’m humbled to bear.”

Callum laughed, but rolled his eyes and shot her a look like a teacher would to a student who shouted out in the middle of a lesson. When it became clear he wasn’t going to take his turn until she really answered, she sighed and tried again.

“I don’t really want to be, but if I get to play in the United Xadia Hockey League, I’d probably have to be. I know it’d mean a lot to have an East Xadian on the team. And a woman, at that. That matters more than the negative aspects of being a public figure, I think.”

“You’d be a great role model.” Callum assured. She looked up from her hands and smiled at him.

“Thanks,” she softly accepted, “what about you? Would you want to be famous?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I kind of am too,” the ceiling suddenly became very interesting to look at. _Is that crown molding? How old is this place?_

“Yeah, okay. Sure. You are also coincidentally famous.” Rayla rose a single eyebrow at him.

Had he forgotten to mention to her the whole Harrow thing? To be fair, they’d only met each other four times now. It just purposefully slipped his mind. 

“Wow. So, I guess you really _don’t_ know. That’s…refreshing, honestly. Also a little concerning. I know people can make it hard for East Xadians to get to the polls to vote, have you not been?” he asked.

“ ‘ _Have you not been voting?’_ Of course I have, could you imagine if we hadn’t and let Viren take over? He’d probably deport me and my dads, the absolute maniac. But what does that have to do with…?” she trailed off, and Callum wished he had a camera to take a picture of her face the moment she realized. “ _No._ You’re _Harrow’s_ son _.”_

“Step-son,” he automatically corrected.

“Step-whatever, you’re his kid. Shit, I’ve been throwing my socks at the son of the president _._ Why didn’t you ever mention that?!” her voice was approaching the high-pitch dog whistle range.

“How does someone do that casually? _Hi, my name is Callum, my dad’s in charge of the whole country._ ”

“Fair.” she conceded. “Should I bow now when I see you?”

“Please don’t,” he groaned as she laughed.

“Alright,” she started, “so you’re the President’s kid. Very cool. Noted. Minding my manners now. No more sock projectiles will be thrown, lest your apparently nonexistent bodyguard tries to kill me. You should definitely have some, by the way. Next question, I guess; if you could wake up tomorrow and have one new ability, what would it be?” _Huh._

When he was little, him, Claudia, Soren, and later Ezran would play in their adjoining backyards. Claudia and Soren had this incredible, magical treehouse you could only get into through a secret door built into the trunk. Once you climbed the internal spiral stairs to the actual house, there was a tire swing on its porch Soren would sometimes push him on when it wasn’t Ezran or Claudia’s turn.

It was easier to forget about things, mostly home things, when he was being swung into the sky.

“Fly.” He finally answered.

“Basic, but I’ll take it,” she teased, tilting her head to the side to look at him, “I can see you with wings. Any particular reason why you want to fly though?”

“I mean, isn’t it nice, to think you can go anywhere whenever you want?”

Rayla looked at him a bit funnily. “Well, you can, if you have the means.”

That was true, but, “How can you just pack up and leave? What if people here need me?”

Harrow was always busy, his mom never showed it but even superheroes like her got tired, and Ezran'll need help applying to college—

“Then you’ll be there.”

She sounded so confident in him he felt startled out of his worrying. It didn’t entirely convince him, but it was food for thought all the same.

“Well, what about you? What ability would you have?”

“Heh,” she started with a laugh, but it didn’t sound like she thought it was all that funny, “maybe to travel back in time so I don't fuck up so much." She bitterly clunked her boot against the ground, "Or be a complete disappointment.”

He blinked, and she did too; she probably wasn’t expecting she’d be that honest either. Although he was having a hard time believing that could be her honest answer. In what universe was being a ridiculously cool hockey captain, snarky barista-genius not considered the rubric for an otherworldly incredible person? Normally he’d be pretty intimidated to say all that, but this should be _obvious._

“Rayla, what are you talking about? I’ve known you for maybe four days and I already know that’s not true.” This conversation was getting unexpectedly personal, but he really didn’t mind.

“That’s nice of you, really, but…” It must have been hard with the boot and the fact she was sitting in a laundry basket, but she managed to pull her knees a bit closer into herself, glaring all the while at the aforementioned boot. 

“Hey, c’mon,” Callum went to put a hand on her shoulder, hesitated until she nodded at him, and then gently wrapped his hand around her bicep. He almost lost his train of thought for a second, because, _wow,_ she had _arms_. Very _muscly, defined,_ could definitely murder someone with arms.

 _Focus, Callum,_ he blinked hard to concentrate, “Okay, so look. I was there when that," he vaguely gestured at her boot, "happened. You didn't choose for Nyx to run into you like that, so why would you blame yourself for something that's out of your control? Rayla, you don't have to hold yourself accountable for other people's choices."

Rayla opened her mouth, probably to debate him, but closed it slowly without a word so he kept going, "Also, how are _you_ a disappointment? _You!_ Like, what?!" The glasses perched on his nose nearly fell off from the way he bewilderedly gestured with his hands. When he pushed them back up to where they belonged, Rayla quietly laughed, most likely at how ridiculous he was being. Emboldened, he kept going. 

"I mean, I doubt disappointments would go out of their way to help someone who’s freaking out over their impending doom in this death trap. I also doubt disappointments are made alternate captains their _junior year_. Or can put their eyeliner better than any YouTube artists. Or can balance all of that with single-handedly carrying the Kafe with your sweet latte skills?" She rolled her eyes and snorted, but didn't contradict him.

"Rayla, I barely know you and it’s already obvious to me you’re the furthest thing from a disappointment; you’re funny, strong, snarky, super cool, kind, and, God, you’re—" she was looking at him from the side of her eyes, disbelief and wonder mixed together in her lavender eyes, "you're _beautiful_.”

 _Uh-! Was that? Out loud?!_ Callum blanched and froze, waiting to see how Rayla would react. 

She was looking at him wide-eyed now, and it could have been the lighting but he hoped that pink dusting her cheek was her blushing.

He wasn't going to say anything else. Apparently he had no control over his mind-mouth connection. 

Miraculously, a little smile grew on Rayla's face that he quickly mirrored. Neither of them said anything, both taking this rare opportunity to unabashedly take in the other. When he looked at her, like he was now, it felt like stargazing on a clear summer night.

You couldn’t possibly take it all in.

Eventually, she cleared her throat to break whatever moment may or may not have been happening. He pulled his hand back from her arm too, albeit reluctantly.

“Maybe so. I dunno... I guess if I couldn't travel in time I’d like to be invisible then. Probably would make sneakin’ up on people a bit easier.” The karate move that followed was pretty silly, but he clapped nonetheless. “Well, go on, what’s your third question?”

He should probably try to make this conversation more positive. “What’s your favorite memory?”

Rayla paused for a moment to think, and fiddled with one of her dirty jersey’s. “It’s a bit…personal.”

Well, that didn’t work. Callum shook his head and held his hands in front of him, “You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” she hesitated, “but just wanted to warn you.” Rayla balled the jersey up tightly in her hands, and then started to fold it even though it was going right back into the dirty pile.

“My dads are technically my adoptive parents.” Rayla took out her phone and clicked it on to show her background. Callum leaned over a bit to see; a slightly younger Rayla was holding a trophy half her size in-between what must have been her dads. Even though her dad with long white hair that matched hers had a stern look on his face, it was clear from the way they were hugging her they were incredibly proud.

“I moved in with them when I was real young, before I went to school. My parents, obviously, weren’t in the picture much. They had…”, she paused and shame flickered almost imperceptively for a second, “ _other_ responsibilities. Bigger than raising me, I guess…Anyway, that was my first junior league championship win. They had managed to get off of, um, _work_ , and came to see me. Ethari and Runaan, that’s Ethari with the crop top and Runaan with the perma-scowl, they had already moved us out to East Zadia. My birth parents weren’t really fans of us moving out here, but Runaan got this amazing job at the university, and they hadn’t really been around enough for them to have a say.”

Her phone started to fade, but this time she unlocked it. The background was different on the inside; the three of them were now joined by two people that must have been her birth parents. Wow. Being intimidatingly pretty must have run in the family.

“This was the last time we were all together. I know my parents don’t really approve of us being here, but we still managed to celebrate together. It's dumb, but I thought if I won, if I showed them how good I was, they'd consider relocating to be closer to me.” Rayla quickly turned her phone back off, and tried to subtly wipe her eyes. _Oh._ "Still. It was nice to be with all of them, together."

“Do you get to talk to them?” Callum gently asked.

“Yeah,” she warbled, then cleared her throat to try again, “yeah. We call each other, every week. I’m not sad about it, I swear.”

The shine in her eyes told a different story. Conflicted on how best to help, Callum reassured, “It’s okay if you are.”

She scoffed. “You sound a bit like Dr. Villads.”

“Well he must be very wise then too.”

She scoffed again a bit softer, but this time she put the jersey back in the basket, and nudged his shoe with hers. “Well, I just shared a deeply personal childhood memory. Your turn.”

He hadn’t really had a moment to think of one, he was so caught up in Rayla’s. What was his favorite memory? Maybe when his step-dad gave Callum his first paint set? When him and Ezran made the fort-mansion in the living room? Or Aunt Amaya and Aunt Janai’s wedding?

 _Oh._ It seemed obvious now.

“My family loves to bake, well, they love to eat more than they love to bake, but you can’t really have one without the other. My mom, well, she was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 10. She went into remission when I was 15. The day we found out, we spent the whole day making as many pastries as the oven could hold.”

“Wow.” Rayla marveled, “Your mom, she’s an incredible woman.”

“She is,” Callum agreed, still lost in the memory.

“It’s been six years then?”

“Six years.” He affirmed. Hearing it aloud made it sound longer than it felt. He got his own phone out, and clicked it on. His background matched the picture of them in his bedroom. All of them had jam and tears mixed on their face. Callum could still remember how weird the two tasted together. 

In fact, that was the first time Ezran had ever tried making their family famous tarts. They would have burnt to a crisp though if Callum hadn’t remembered to turn the oven— _oh no._

“ _Oh my God!”_ Callum lurched up, tripping over his own feet in his haste. His laundry-basket seat flipped over, spilling out Rayla’s clothes.

“Wha—?!”, she gathered her some of her clothes into a bundle in her arms, although they had fallen close enough to the suspicious stain that they should probably be burned instead. “What? What’s the matter?” she asked, staring at him bewilderedly.

“ _My jelly tarts!!”_

 _“_ Your what?”

“Tarts! Made of jelly! Definitely burning!” Callum started to pace back and forth on the faded red elevator carpet. “This building is so _old,_ it wouldn’t stand up against a lit match, let alone a whole _oven!”_

“ _Oh,”_ Rayla hurriedly (as much as she could, with a five-pound boot) made her way to the panel of buttons, and aggressively pushed the one for an emergency phone call. “Lujanne! _”_

The speaker, miraculously, crackled to life. “Are you in need of something, Ms. Yue? Firefighter Manny and I were having a rather _private_ conversation.”

That’s right! There were firefighters already there! _Also, ew._ “Ms. Lujanne, ma’am,” Callum started, “can you tell Manny to check on room 905? I may have left the oven on.”

“ _May_ have?”

 _Well..._ “Or, you know, _definitely._ ”

“ _Hmph_ _._ Manny, darling, could you send…? There is a firefighter heading up there right now. Would you prefer they knock down the door before or after they see smoke?”

“Uh, there’s a key under the rug?”

Rayla, their landlord, and Manny who was also listening in all lost five years of their life as soon as the words left his mouth. Callum shifted back and forth between both feet while the conversation awkwardly paused.

“…Well. Perhaps you should not do that. Although it has come in handy today. If there’s anything else that you need, please use discretion! I have enjoyed talking to you both, despite wrecking my elevator and burning my building to the ground. Now, Manny, where were we…?”

“Ms. Lujanne I believe we were covering your many fire code violations. As well as what you’re doing next week…”

“Wait! How much longer do we have?” No one on the speaker answered him. He flopped his head on the button panel, and Rayla patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Gently, she turned him to look at her. “Well,” she shrugged, “can’t be long now. C’mon,” she leaned back against the elevator wall, apparently not concerned about the peeling paint getting onto her clothes. “It can be your turn to ask.”

When she leaned against the wall like that, some of her hair softly shifted to lay against her neck. It was so white it reflected the overhead lights to make a halo; when she pushed it back so the hair tucked behind her ear like it was this moment… _Wow_. Suddenly, he was reminded he didn’t really mind having to be stuck here.

“So,” he put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, “well, what do you value the most in a…” he trailed off and she looked up at him with her wide purple eyes, “…friendship.”

“Well,” she started, clucking her tongue in thought, “I dunno. Lots of my friends are just my teammates. Not to be sad, or whatever, but I haven’t really had a lot of friends. Not a lot of time.”

With absolutely no thought or hesitation, Callum interjected, “I’m your friend.”

Rayla’s breath hitched a bit, and she laughed, “Yeah, after ‘stalking’ you, and you smelling one of my gym socks, we’re real besties. All I’m missing is trying these world-renowned tarts.”

“And riding this elevator has definitely been a soul-bonding, life-changing field trip.” Callum replied, knocking the elevator wall with his knuckles. The elevator seemed to shake in answer; likely irritated that in its old age some punk was hitting it. Callum grabbed the railing with both hands and chuckled nervously.

It was worth it though, because Rayla was doing the thing. Head tilted, small smile. He could get used to being on the receiving end of that.

“I guess,” she started again, “if I had to choose, it means the most to me when people don’t leave.” Callum could tell from the way her eyes shifted and she wrapped her arms around herself that he probably shouldn’t push any further.

He thought of his mom, he thought of having to move from house to house when he was younger, when Aunt Amaya left to live in East Xadia just when things got better, how much more distant him, Claudia, and Soren had become compared to when they were kids, he even thought of his own decision to stay close to home when he went to college.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, “I think I’d say the same.” Rayla looked back up at him, and if she was trying to figuring out if he was lying, she’d be hard pressed to read it on his face. “I, uh, can’t really think of another question. You can go.”

“Oh it’s the last question then, I better make it count.” Rayla began to tap her boot in thought, then looked down at it. Callum was intrigued by the way the tips of her ears lit up in a sunrise pink. He was both bitter and grateful his sketchbook was strewn across his bed back in apartment 905. This probably wasn’t a good time to do a color study on a new friend.

“So,” she interrupted his reverie on her ears, “I meant to ask the other day, but well, Viren.” Callum nodded solemnly in understanding, though he wasn’t sure where their last question was going. He didn’t register it, but the elevator’s gears softly ground in the background. “But I can’t play this Friday. Can’t really fit a skate around this thing.” She bitterly lifted the boot, and clunked it on the faded red carpet. The elevator shook in response.

“But after each game, we usually go to the bars or someone’s house. I’m still going, to support the team, and to try and relax.”

 _Okay?_ he thought. The elevator gave another little shake, and he tightened his grip on the railing.

He must have looked confused, because Rayla took a breath with all of her lungs, crossed her arms, and continued, “Usually, they bring their FAP’S.”

“Their _what?”_ Again, he felt the ground beneath him shake a little, but actively tried not to think about it.

“Friends and partners. You know, like WAGS. Except, not just wives and girlfriends.”

 _Where’s the question?_ The rattle in the elevator was more aggressive this time. But if Rayla wasn’t concerned, well, he had minus well try not to be too.

“So, I’m still going even though I’m not playing, and I was wondering if you’d— _AH!”_ The elevator finally jolted downwards, faster than Callum could ever remember it moving in the years he’d lived there. Rayla lurched forward, trying to regain her balance. With the boot on, it was futile, and she started to careen towards the ground. Callum must have acted on instinct, he didn’t even have to think about it when his arms immediately abandoned the railing to wrap around her waist. Their combined momentum took them crashing towards the elevator carpet. He vaguely, exhilaratingly, registered her cling to him too.

Thankfully, Callum had broken Rayla’s fall. Unfortunately, the laundry basket broke his. Socks went flinging through the tiny room, and Callum moved one hand from Rayla’s waist to rest on top of her head to protect her from both the tiny smelly projectiles and whatever came next. His heart beat directly into her ear, somehow louder than the screeching metal as the elevator speeded down.

It obviously wasn’t the top priority right now, but Callum made a note in the back of his mind that if they made it out of here alive he’d need to burn these clothes due to their proximity to Mystery Stain on the elevator carpet. His glasses had fallen off in the chaos too, so, he supposed he'd just have to be blind until new ones came in. If they even made it out of this to order them in the first place.

Well, if he _had_ to die, at least it was with a friend. She wrapped her arms around him, and they curled in towards each other for what felt like really could be their last moments. Rayla was a powerhouse, but he still managed to envelope his whole body around hers, closing his eyes to prepare for however this would end.

But just as suddenly as it began, the death box lurched to a stop. 

After a few moments, he slowly lifted his head from where he had tucked it on top of Rayla’s. He subconsciously smoothed her hair down too as he took his hand off her head. They kept holding onto each other though, not entirely willing to trust the elevator or let go of the moment.

Eventually though, she lifted her head from his chest, and when their noses almost touched he felt her gasp, not even leaving air between them.

Miraculously, her eyeliner was still pristine, _like always_ , and he was close enough to see the sunrise on her cheeks. Despite himself, he gently squeezed the arm wrapped around her waist, thrilled to feel her responsive shiver run through her body, to know she was alive too.

Neither of them noticed, but the elevator doors opened a miniscule amount before shutting again.

Her hand moved to his chest as she readjusted herself to lay more comfortably on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to divert any attention from her towards feeling embarrassed at the way his heart was running in anticipation.

“Am I dead?” He asked; it came out sounding deeper than he had expected. Rayla tilted her head as if to consider it while she glided her hand up from his chest to behind his neck, ear, and head. Every nerve of his lit up in her wake, goosebumps erupting all over his skin.

“No,” she breathed, “but you’ll have a nasty knot where your head hit the basket. Dummy.” She kept the one hand behind his neck to support it, but used the other to gently flick his forehead. 

“Heh,” he chuckled despite his increasing blush, “better dumb than dead.”

Her eyes snapped to his and she laughed too, her hand now lightly carding up through the hair on the back of his head. He joined in with her, both of them too high on the adrenaline to be able to do much else.

Eventually though, they calmed back down. Callum gently placed his hand on her cheek, presumably to check for injuries, but there were none and now the blood his heart was pumping started to sing because they were both _alive_ and this was real.

Some of her hair was falling on his face, so he pushed it back behind her ear. “Earlier when you said…I wouldn’t let you die either,” he muttered softly.

Rayla didn’t say anything to reply, but her eyes started to shine and she shook her head in that fond way of hers.

They were both too busy caught up in each other to notice the elevator doors now straining to open. 

“Well that’s very kind of you. Stupid, but sweet.” Rayla leaned up, and for a second Callum thought she was going to kiss him; and she did, but softly bellow the corner of his eye.

It’s interesting, the way the human heart can feel euphoric and disappointed all in one bittersweet combination. Mostly euphoric, though.

“ _Um,”_ he started, and later when he was in bed trying to sleep but replaying this instead, he’d think of the million different things he could have said. Suave, charming things.

Not that he was given a chance—finally, the elevator doors were pried open by an enormous, fit man and their elderly landlord observing him from a fold out chair and a glass of wine.

“Oh, goodness, well! Perhaps we should close these doors back up?”

Both of them made rather inhuman noises as Rayla hurried to get off him to stand, though not without offering a hand to help him up too. Callum felt himself making a dopey face as he took it, and wondered if he had looked like that for a while or if he was just now noticing.

“So,” she started, bending down to pick up his glasses from where they had been strewn, “anyway, the fifth question…” Callum hurriedly put his glasses back on so he could see her again, and waited for her to explain.

“Excuse me,” the big muscle man, who must have been firefighter Manny, interrupted, “but they just radioed about a smoky situation on the ninth floor.” Ninth floor, smoke?!

“ _My tarts!”_ Callum looked back and forth between Manny, the socks strewn across the elevator, and Rayla. “I’m sorry, it was really nice to run into you again, _really nice_ , but I have to—”

“It’s fine, go save your tarts.” She shook her head in that fond way again, but turned quickly to pick up the socks. Lujanne stepped in to help her, shooing Callum away.

“Go on now, please do not let my building burn down. It is, after all, the only thing feeding my ‘exotic bird habit.’”

Callum blanched for a second before the panic took over again and he tore open the door to the stairwell in their apartment lobby. This is what he had been training with Soren for his whole life. Nine flights. He could do this.

* * *

It was an absolute miracle Callum had never tried to become a firefighter because if it was up to him every building would for sure burn down by the time he finally climbed all nine flights (a very cruel, inhumane amount). The stairwell was so dark and dingy too, the constant flicking lights on his floor were a welcome change from the never ending torture devices disguised as stairs.

With one last burst of energy, he gave his best attempt at sprinting towards his apartment. The rug had been pushed aside, and his door was slightly ajar. Callum gripped the doorframe as he burst, slowly, into the apartment. Two firefighters were sitting at his table, each with a tart in hand.

“Oh, hello,” one said through the crumbs spilling out of her mouth. “These are very good. You should definitely not put a key under your rug.”

“Do you care if we take a couple?” the other asked, taking two before Callum could answer them.

“Yeah, sure, go right ahead,” he acquiesced as the two heroes left his apartment. _Ugh_ , he groaned, plopping into one of the chairs they had occupied. That ended up being a far more stressful procrastination field trip than he had anticipated.

 _Worth it,_ he thought as he ate a well-deserved tart and lightly touched his cheek.

When he finished the pastry, he took the plate full of them over to the kitchen counter to wrap them up in cellophane. He really did make too many for just one person, or one person who was not his mother or brother.

Callum bent down by the sink to get the cellophane out from the cabinet, and the dirty dishes still demanding to be washed loomed over him.

On second thought, the first field trip had been so productive, another one certainly couldn’t hurt. “ _Tarts were meant to be shared,_ ”, his mother had always told him as she swatted Viren’s hand away from the plate, “ _no matter what differences people have, there’s always one great unifier: dessert.”_

Well, it’d be considerate of him to share these with his neighbors. And if he happened to run into one particular neighbor again, well that would be cool too.

Decided, Callum finished wrapping up the tarts, headed back out, locked his door, put the spare key back under the rug, reconsidered, and tucked it into his front pocket.

When he got in front of the elevator, he faced the exact same dilemma he did earlier. To be lazy, or to not be lazy?

 _I should probably…not try that again_ , he thought to himself as he went back to the dreaded stairs. Besides, he wouldn’t be going down all nine. He just had enough tarts for maybe one floor. And if he chose the fourth floor because that was the floor Rayla got onto the elevator from, who cares? After the whole falling-to-their-death thing, no one deserved a fresh pastry more than she did.

As the stairwell door closed behind him, the elevator _ding_ ed.

* * *

Going down the stairs, thankfully, was far less punishing than going up, though that wasn’t much to look forward to.

And, at least there weren’t that many rooms on each floor. The lighting down here was way better too, everything was washed in silvery twilight.

 _Grass is always greener though,_ he reminded himself as he knocked on apartment 401. It was very quickly opened by a young girl, probably Ez’s age, and the largest husky he’d ever seen. Said husky greeted him enthusiastically, jumping and licking wherever she could.

“Woah, Ava! Hi! I’ve never seen you before. Are you selling something?” What was someone Ez’s age living in this building for? Maybe early admission. Or maybe her parents worked at the university.

“Oh, hi. No, I’m your neighbor. Sort of. Anyway, I just made extra tarts and thought maybe other people would want some?”

Her husky started sniffing around the tarts, and very carefully started to pry one out of the plate. They were safe for dogs, so he didn’t really mind. 

“How is she allowed to live here?” Callum asked abruptly. When Ezran came to visit, they had to hide Bait whenever they came and left the building and he was just a frog. Albeit, an old and grumpy one.

“Oh isn’t Ms. Lujanne just the sweetest? Most other landlords wouldn’t let big dogs live here.”

“You got her to agree to a _dog? This dog?”_ Callum asked incredulously. Ava successfully sneaked her second tart, passing it to Ellis. She wordlessly took it and started to munch on it.

“Lujanne and I have an arrangement.” That was a little suspicious, but, fine. Callum glanced up and down the hallway; although this girl seemed nice he was growing anxious. “Okay, also, _wow,_ I could die happy now. Can I have the recipe?”

“No.” He didn’t mean to be rude, but it was a family recipe for a reason. If it got out, they would put all other desserts out of business. 

Ellis narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, sizing him up before nodding and shrugging, “Hmph. Alright, be that way. We’ll figure it out, won’t we Ava?”

Ava barked in agreement, or just because she was a dog.

“Well, we appreciate them anyway, uhm…What’s your name?”

He glanced back from where he was looking down the hall to respond, “Callum.”

“Ellis. It’s nice to meet you!” She thrust her hand out, and when Callum shook it he felt a piece of paper slip into his palm.

“Ellis, I’m not accepting bribes for the recipe.”

“A _w_ _hat?_ A _bribe?_ I could never. Ava, does that seem like something I would do?”

Ava stared at them, a third tart in her mouth.

Despite himself, Callum laughed. They were too familiar to Ezran and Bait for their own good. Ellis begrudgingly took the bill back, and closed the door behind her.

“We’ll be walking around the building, just inside though. It’s pretty dark out now. Good luck with your mission, thank you for the tarts!” Ava barked, and this time it was definitely in thanks for the tarts.

Well, apartment 401 was a bust. Eight left to go.

* * *

Four different frat guys and two stoners later there were only a couple more apartments and a dwindling amount of tarts left.

Undeterred, Callum knocked on apartment 408. The odds it wouldn’t be Rayla were—

Apparently very high. The hockey player with brilliant red hair opened the door. (How many people did he vaguely know that lived in this building? It seemed very coincidental.)

“Callum! It’s good to see you! I am not quite sure why you’re here though.”

“Hi, uh, hockey, fellow?” Callum looked at him funnily; he was 95% sure they had never been introduced before.

“Oh my goodness, where are my manners! My name is Gren, I intern with your Aunt in drafting and implementing foreign policy! She has pictures of you guys all over her office in Lux Aurea.”

“Oh.” When was the last time he had written her? When she had moved…? That must have been a year ago now. “Oh, that’s cool. She’s the coolest.”

“The absolute _coolest_!” Gren gushed. “Say, are those some of your family tarts? I haven’t had them since New Year’s…” 

“Yeah,” Callum hesitated, he only had a few left, and based upon his childhood with Soren, hockey players had actual black holes where they should have had stomachs. But if the alternative was to refuse to share… “Of course, have some, if you wouldn’t mind leaving just a couple? I wanted to give them to, uh, everyone. So, I didn't go to New Year's, I was, uhm, sick...how was—" Gren absentmindedly began to eat one of the tarts, and like everyone's, his mouth dropped open to hurriedly interrupt Callum.

“Oh my God... _Tracker_! _We’ve got fresh tarts! The real deal!”_ The other defensive-man from the Nexus Nets poked his head around the corner to look in the doorway. Gren sized Callum up as the other d-man sprinted over to pick up a couple tarts. 

“You can call me Corvus, if you prefer,” the fit man addressed him, “These are much appreciated, Callum, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honestly.” Callum shifted back and forth between his feet, logging in his head that this man seemed to know who he was too for no apparent reason. (Then again, being the president's son, that could explain it.) “Um, anyway, do either of you happen to know, I wanted to give these to Rayla, does she…? Is she…? Do you know which apartment is hers?”

“I’m very sorry, who?” Gren tilted his head in confusion.

“I believe he means Naruto.”

“ _Oh!_ Right, right. Well, we can certainly take these off your hands to give to her next time we see her.”

Corvus elbowed him lightly in the ribs and raised a cool, singular, notched eyebrow. Gren sighed.

“My apologies, I haven’t had these in forever and lost control for a moment. We can certainly point you in the right direction.” His kindly eyes narrowed very suddenly, “But you should be aware. We know what’s going on here. We weren’t born yesterday.” Corvus solemnly nodded, which was hard to take seriously when he had crumbs in his beard. “If you hurt her,” _Oh God,_ “she will kick your, excuse my coarse language, butt.” _Oh God, they’d only met four times. They hadn’t even gone on a date. How could he ever—_

“Hurt her?” The thought was sobering. Even though he was flustered, Callum was still able to honestly say, “I’ll never want to. If I do, I deserve whatever comes my way.”

Gren and Corvus looked at each other, nodded, and turned back to Callum. “She lives right next door,” Corvus said, “we haven’t heard her in a while though. She is normally very loud. She may still be doing laundry, though that would be a very long time to load up a washer.”

Somewhat relieved, but very much nervous at the prospect of seeing her on purpose for the first time, Callum took a steadying breath and tightened his grip on the tarts. “Thanks, you guys. I appreciate it!”

As he walked off, though not very far since it was next door, Gren wrapped his arm around Corvus’ side.

“Ah, the first steps of dating. Do you remember when we were young like them?” Corvus looked at him, a bit confused. 

“Yes, don't you? It was last year.”

They closed their door, and Callum turned to apartment 409. This had to be it. He took one more steadying breath, lifted his fist up, and knocked quietly.

Corvus poked his head out their apartment door, “You have to knock louder than that. She won’t hear it, especially if she’s five episodes deep into Full—.” Somewhat similar to a whack-a-mole, he was unceremoniously yanked back in.

Callum could definitely feel his ears burning, though he was still undeterred. More boldly this time, he firmly knocked on her door. This was it.

…

He knocked again. Still nothing. One more time?

…

 _Well, that was pretty anticlimactic_. They had mentioned they hadn’t heard from her in a while though. Should he wait, or…?

Callum thought about having another awkward conversation with her teammates. Now that he really considered it, he was probably better off leaving them at her doorstep. She’d still appreciate them.

“Hey, Corvus? Gren?” They both nonchalantly opened their door, as if they hadn’t been watching from the peephole. “Could you make sure she gets these?”

“I will guard them with my life.” Corvus put a fist over his heart, and somehow Callum really believed him. “Ava, and her little human too, will not get within a five foot radius of these tarts.”

Gren placed his own hand solemnly in the air, "And we swear to not interfere further than that, so the tarts are not put in mortal danger. We won't open this door unless we see them."

Despite their earlier awkward interaction, Callum found himself smiling at them. “Thanks,” he replied, heading back towards the stairs. As he walked by the elevator, it began to _ding_ to notify it was about to arrive. The down arrow was flickering on as well.

 _You almost died, Callum_ , he reminded himself. It would probably be a while before he trusted elevators again.

The stairwell door faced him, and the elevator _ding_ ed again in the background. _Ugh._ At least it was only five flights of stairs this time.

* * *

It was a painstaking ten minutes later when he finally emerged back on his floor. Surprisingly, Ellis and Ava were there to greet him. “Hi…guys…how was…your walk?” he panted.

“Hey Callum! We were just about to head back down to grab a poop bag, we got caught up talking to one of the other residents. She was loitering here for like, _a while_.”

“Oh?” Callum asked, not really listening. All of his energy was being put into making his way to his apartment without collapsing. Just one foot in front of the other, he was almost to his doorstep…

“Yeah, she was—wait, no don’t step there, Ava-!”

_Squelch!_

What was…? No. _No._ Not in these shoes…

Ellis winced sympathetically, “I’m so sorry, she’s still being potty trained, and she went outside before this so we weren't expecting she'd have to go again. I was _just_ on my way to grab a bag.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine, accidents happen!” Callum plastered on his neighborly smile and hurriedly tried to unlock his door. He needed something to get this poop off his shoe _pronto._ It was certainly not fine. He could practically feel it seep into his sole. In his rush to get inside, he put most of his weight towards the door. When he got it open, he fell forward in his haste, only to lurch the poop-shoe foot forward to regain his balance.

Callum looked down. Huh. There was a folded paper stuck to the shoe now. Must have been a left over napkin, or a scrap paper. Maybe an old sketch that had fallen out of his bag.

“Well that’s pretty convenient,” he thought aloud, using the scrap to wipe Ava’s poop off his shoe.

“Are you sure she’s just a puppy?” he called back to Ellis. “Because this is not a puppy-sized poop.”

“Aww,” Ellis wrapped her arms around Ava’s neck, “you’re growing so much, aren’t you Ava?” Ava playfully licked the girl’s face. “Heh. Well, so sorry about the whole poop-shoe situation Callum. I’ll bake you some tarts to make up for it! Not tonight though, I have to go help my dad grade his term papers. See you later!’ She waved, and Callum leaned back out his doorway to wave back.

Until he really thought about what she said, “I didn’t give you the recipe though?” he called after her.

“I have my ways!”

Callum shook his head amusedly before closing his door and leaning his back against it. That hadn’t been an entirely unsuccessful trip. He had actually met, and talked to more people in his building than he had all three years he lived there. And, he felt fairly confident Rayla would like the pastries.

A big part of his dumb, hopeful heart wished she would get the tarts, remember his apartment number, and knock on his door to see him again. Maybe finish asking her fifth question, whatever it was. He leaned his head back against the hard wood and waited, giving her a chance to maybe do just that.

Later, he’d throw away the poop-cleaning scrap paper, call his parents, his aunts, and finally do the dishes. But for now, he let himself give into the hope that she was standing on the other side of his door.

He stayed like that for a while, longer than he should have. It was dark out when he finally took his absent minded hand off his cheek and went to start the dishes. 

* * *

Five floors down, Rayla held a now-empty paper plate in her hands, and got up from where she was sitting against her own door. That was enough wishing for the night for her too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Well it's been about a month! It turns out, even when everything shuts down, I still had responsibilities. Who knew? I didn't!  
> -To compensate, this is a longer chapter. Enjoy!  
> -This chapter was outlined as "idk, bonding I guess. Filler until it hits the fan in Chap. 5" I'm pleasantly surprised with how it turned out.  
> -The questions are inspired from a New York Times article, "36 questions to Ask to Fall in Love"  
> -Also, I know! Why didn't they just exchange numbers, like normal people? Who leaves important information on a note they really have no way of 100% guaranteeing someone else receives? How long can I expect you all to suspend your disbelief? haha  
> -(in an early draft they do actually exchange numbers but he gives her the wrong one on accident. I kinda like that too, but I wanted to tie in the note from chapter three. also, this is more fun.)  
> -5/10 edit: I hated the conversation they had about superpowers, so I went back and changed a lot of stuff. It makes Rayla's personal issues (re: silvergrovian society causing her to take responsibility for other people's choices and feeling like maybe if she was good enough she would override her parents commitment to the 'greater good' ) way more clear! And also Callum's speech sounds more like something a real person would say lol
> 
> Chapter 5 Preview:  
> Rayla's not sure why she's here, to be honest. She's not really one for the college party scene, especially now when it looks like she's been stood up.  
> Well, no better place to be to take her mind off of green eyes and goofy smiles.
> 
> For those of you who have been reading and have enjoyed it so far, thank you <3


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